


Independent Investigation

by Spumoni_BerryBoney



Series: Deviants & Detectives [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Adorable Connor, Amanda is Important to the Plot, Because of Reasons, Beta reader as of chapter 20, Bottom Connor, Canon-Typical Violence, Connor Fears Freedom, Depressed Hank Anderson, Hank Struggles with Depression, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Jeffrey Fowler is a good captain and friend, Lots Of Sad, M/M, No one was there to stop me, Slow Burn, Suicide Attempt, Sumo doesn't understand why they aren't happy, Sumo is just the bestest boy that wants them to be happy, That's it, That's the Reason, Top Hank Anderson, Worldbuilding, best dog 10/10, everyone hits on Connor, have you seen him, have you seen his DOG, honestly they should be hitting on Hank, kind of a retelling, lazy writing sorry not sorry, no beta we die like lazy nerds, not sure why just kind of worked out that way idk, so slow
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2019-08-04 05:44:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 110,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16340885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spumoni_BerryBoney/pseuds/Spumoni_BerryBoney
Summary: Retelling. As deviant activity increases to the point even the police are beginning to notice, CyberLife sends out their latest model - still in prototype phase - to investigate outside of the law. Only, the RK800 Connor is showing signs of deviancy, and turns to the Lieutenant Hank Anderson to prevent this from happening.Hank doesn't. In fact, he might even be encouraging it... as they work together, it's starting to become clearer that the problem isn't in deviant androids: there's something happening with CyberLife itself.Currently: Diverging from the game from chapter 17 onwards.Chapter 24 probably has the content you're looking for.





	1. 01: Brown Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> First, pronoun usage in the fic. Throughout "Detroit Become Human," they use 'it' as a dehumanizing form of pronoun towards the androids (even though normal people use 'it' very humanely outside of this game). To somewhat keep parts of the game's setting, 'it' will be generally used for androids that are not deviants. 'They' will be the pronoun for deviants, because I'm already twenty-one chapters in and none of the androids have been asked their preferred pronouns because HANK AND CONNOR ARE RUDE. (Actually it's because the deviants are usually running for their lives and what you're being called isn't a priority in that scenario) Connor eventually is addressed as a 'he' because Hank is determined af so Connor bullshits his response and here we are. Only not really, this is the first chapter and that's a couple more away but you get it.  
> This story takes place over the course of several weeks, because the revolution does start in this but one of the (FUCKING MANY) things about the game that drove me crazy is that the revolution either succeeds or fails in like, three days. Like. Really???? Anyway. The revolution isn't the focus of the story. 
> 
> Hank is also depressed. He's going to have good moments, he's going to have bad moments. I'm trying to handle it as respectfully as possible, but if you have any suggestions on how to correct and handle situations better for it I'll appreciate it. I have no beta reader, only my personal experiences and some knowledge on my side.
> 
> Shameless statement here, I love comments. Even simple ones like, "nice." Seriously, it means the world to me someone took the extra minute to say something. ♡ Long ass notes aside, I hope you enjoy.

Officially, there had only been one android deviant at the scene. Anyone that had not been there, was not directly involved in the case, was not informed of there being a second android. The second one had no indications of deviancy, but there was also no known explanation for its presence and departure. A blue LED, dedication to guarding human lives over attempting to end them - it had even caught up to the deviant android, somehow convinced it to wait for the police to arrive and arrest it.

Officer Wilson hadn’t gotten a very good look at it. Vision blurring from blood loss, initially he thought it was a hallucination. “You all right?” Lieutenant Hank asked him at the hospital. The two weren’t close, but sometimes the lieutenant had a habit of acting akin to their precinct’s grumpy uncle. Anyone he regarded as a ‘good cop,’ the older man tried to keep tabs on. 

“I haven’t a damn clue.” Wilson sighed, head leaning into the pillow on the hospital bed. 

“Yeah, well, you will be. They got a human doctor, good one to boot.” The lieutenant nodded to him, lips tugging upwards in a forced smile.

“A human doctor…” Wilson trailed, a bitter chuckle leaving his lips. Rolling his eyes, he glanced towards the other man. “A human isn’t what saved me, though.” Wilson closed his eyes, brows knitting together while Hank watched him. “I keep telling myself… I was seeing things. But I wasn’t, was I? There was another android on the scene. Heard it pulled some officers off the scene. I was thinking, shit, two deviants? Thinking it was taking us down. Turns out, it was moving everyone from the shots firing. Damned thing stopped me from bleeding out…” Slowly opening his dark brown eyes, watching Hank’s frown with his own, “I don’t… get it. I know I couldn’t see well, but I _know_ I saw the LED and it was _blue_. Fucking Blue, Lieutenant. Its clothes… they had to be street clothes, androidwear is shiny and glowy and shit. 

What the hell was it doing there?” Wilson ended, sucking in a deep breath. “I’m not complaining about it saving my life, but I am complaining we don’t know jackshit about it.”

“It’s a fuckin’ android, Wilson. If it ain’t a deviant, means some asshole is orderin’ their human toaster to act vigilante for them.” Hank rebutted with a snort. 

“Yeah… yeah, that makes… sense. I guess.” Wilson muttered, memory struggling to retain as much of what he saw, what he heard. _Officer Wilson, are you all right? Can you follow my finger?_ It had asked him questions. “Had a sort of…unassuming voice. Like some smallfry trying to sound important.”

“Did it succeed?” Hank inquired, arching a brow.

“Tch, Lieutenant I was near passing out then - anything trying to save me was important. Here? Now? I’d say Hell No.” Wilson chuckled. _I have to apply a tourniquet. You will feel pain and discomfort, I apologize for that_ … Informative, immediate. “Never thought I’d see the day I was grateful a machine was there to save me, Hank.”

“Yeah, well, just remember - if a machine wasn’t there, you wouldn’t have been hurt, either.” Hank reminded him gruffly, and then stood. “Get plenty of rest, Wilson.” Hank patted the officer on the shoulder, and then stood. “I should get back to the street before Captain Fowler has an aneurysm about me not hittin’ the pavement.” 

“Oh, you? Doing everything _but_ investigating that android case he shoved on you? Say it isn’t so, Lieutenant.” Wilson laughed, an act that earned him a wry grin from Hank.

“I am ‘fraid it is so, Wilson. Rest up.” With a wave, Lieutenant Hank left the room with a, ‘Bye Lieutenant,’ trailing from behind him. Power walking through the halls, head leaning forward in his charge to get out Hank didn’t mind the grays of his hair falling to the sides of his face and blocking his peripheral. He hated hospitals. Hated how bare it was of humanity, how unsettling it could be with its dedication to sterility. Most hospitals had only one human nurse per floor, with up to ten android nurses that took orders from the human nurse and any doctors that walked in. A place meant for healing was almost completely run by greed and plastic dolls pretending to be people, using smiles that were empty because machines didn’t feel. 

Nostrils flaring, part of Hank hated himself for walking in but what did it matter? The same amount of hatred would have been there if he hadn’t, and if he was going to hate himself either way he might as well have visited one of his men. One of his good men at that. Had it been someone like Reed, then Hank wouldn’t have dragged his ass to the most miserable place on earth next to a funeral. 

Walking out of the hospital and back onto the rainy streets of Detroit, Hank’s hurried pace slowed and he let out a sigh. Steps more languid, not minding the cold rain just then because he was still sober. Thinking back on his conversation with Wilson, on his current assignment… “Shit, too sober for this.” Hank grumbled, raising his shoulders and adjusting his jacket. _We’re getting reports of assault and even homicide, Hank. Everyone’s working overtime except **you**. So guess who gets to pick up the slack?_ Captain Fowler really knew how to get underneath his skin. 

Three years ago sealed Hank’s hated of androids. The fact they were becoming deviants, losing their minds and lashing out at humanity - why should he even be surprised? CyberLife, ever the image of capitalism, paid the police department some pretty pennies to keep quiet about it, too. 

“Don’t say anythin’ Hank.” Hank grumbled under his breath, parroting Captain Fowler’s order. Each heavy step to his squad car, the old man felt the thirst in his throat grow. After being in that hospital, those smells, those sights… three years hadn’t been long enough for the memory to try prodding into his thoughts. Car door opened, Hank plopped himself into the seat and sighed out softly, “Cole…”

Slamming his door shut, he drove towards Jimmy’s to drink himself into oblivion.

 

….  
….  
….

 

“Hank!” Jimmy’s voice yelled, a hand smacking the back of his head.

“Hnng?” Hank snapped his head up, cringing as the headache that followed after made his skull feel like it was being smashed between two boulders. “The fuck, Jimmy? The actual fuck?”

“Your phone has been going off non-stop. If I have to hear an angry panda sing ‘Shitty Boss’ _one more time_ -” As if on cue, the screaming death metal began blasting and Hank suddenly regretted that weak moment of nostalgia that resulted in his ringtone choice for Captain Fowler. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah…” Hank slurred, holding up the hologram phone with a frown. He hated these damn things. Touchscreens were easier, and effectively obsolete. The holophones were ornery, plagued with glitches, and required a three-dimensional handling that his too-used-to-two-dimensional brain struggled with. “The fuck you want?”

“Hank,we just got a report in of a homicide. Seems deviant-related. And guess who’s handling those cases?”

“The fuck, Fowler? It’s…” Hank’s brows knitted together, and he glanced at the clock. “It’s, uh… six in the afternoon.” The slur in his voice, the confusion at how early it still was and there was a roar on the phone.

“GET. YOUR ASS. TO THE SITE.” Was all Fowler could manage to yell, despite wanting to demand what the hell Hank was doing drinking himself stupid so early. On the job. 

“Shit…” With a hiss, Hank pulled away the phone and poked at it to close the call just in case the captain wanted to yell anything else out. 

“How do you still have a job?” Jimmy asked, staring at Hank with his brows upwards. 

“CyberLife hasn’t made shitty ‘droid detectives yet.” Hank pointed out with a long drawl. “I’m… I’m gonna… order a cab.” He sighed, furrowing his brows at the phone. There was an alert hitting, and he knew it was the address Fowler wanted him to go to. “Hey… Jimmu, how you…”

“Lemme see your phone.” Jimmy rolled his eyes, holding out his hand. The first thing he did was call Hank a cab - both he and the detective were too responsible to let the man drive anywhere drunk. The second thing was pulling up the address, and instead of reading it handed it over to Hank. Considering the cop never asked about any of the questionable activities in the bar (“it ain’t hurtin’ no one, why should I care?” Hank grumbled when asked about it), Jimmy felt it only fair to be respectful of the cop’s job. 

“Thanks.” Hank huffed, squinting at the phone while standing up. He hobbled slightly, heading towards the door.

“No problem.” With a wave, Jimmy watched the old man leave.

The drive from the bar wasn’t terribly long, but the entirety of it was Hank glowering at the automated drive of the cab he had taken. What happened to the days of Lyft? Uber? Easy: the media played up the rare horror stories with human drivers, and everyone felt safe with the _robots_. “Fuckin’ androids.” Was all Hank could manage, stumbling out of the cab. Slowly blinking his eyes, belching softly, he tried to make himself some version of presentable since there was a small collection of journalists with cameras at the front of the house, pressing the few officers there.

Doing his best, ‘Totally Not Drunk Walk’ (which meant focusing a bit too much on his steps), Hank approached the house. Ignoring the journalists, waving them off indifferently. Updated and informed, the stench from inside the house rolled in waves. Before even seeing the body, Hank could tell from the smell it had been days. The fun part of being a detective in homicide for a few years, was Hank learned the importance of always having vapo-rub on hand. Reaching into his pocket, dipping a finger into it to rub under his nose he coughed - the menthol smell strong as ever, but it was drastically better than rotting corpse. 

Scoping around, he frowned at some of the evidence. “What’s this?” He murmured, eyes squinting trying to make sense of a written note in the poor lighting. 

“Evidence.” One of the officers pointed out, slight quirk of their mouth pulled upwards. “Or you too drunk still to figure that out?”

“Fuck off.” Hank snapped, eyes never leaving the paper.

_‘Dear Officers,  
I have said this in the call I placed, but as a precaution please be aware if you enter the attic you should do so with great caution. Please use care.’_

“Humans don’t have handwriting this neat. And it mentions a call placed? Are we looking at a fucking tampered crime scene?” Hank demanded.

“The only fingerprints we’ve found are Carlos’.” A different officer responded with a shrug. 

“Seriously? That’s all you have to say?” Hank closed his eyes, before walking over to forensis and taking some gloves from them. “Just fucking great. Anyone been to the attic yet?” 

“We wanted to wait until you got here.” The second officer explained. “The call the card references - we think it’s actually the _second_ call we got about this. You know how the landlord called us first, right? Well… we got another call shortly after. Tried to track it, no luck. Sounded male, young. Very… factual. We’re thinking either a sociopath or…”

“Or the second android.” Hank finished, nodding his head. Blowing out a breath, he pulled his gun from his holster and moved slowly towards where he saw a chair beneath the attic. “Please tell me that was you guys.”

“It was there when we got here.” The second officer shrugged, more willing to speak with the lieutenant. Hank’s blue eyes glanced at the wall next to the chair. Just barely visible was the outline of a ladder. The crime scene had been contaminated. A low growl in his throat, Hank motioned for some of the men to move in behind him.

Getting into the attic was a struggle - one that reminded Hank how out of shape he had let himself become. Moments like these, he felt the faintest burn of wanting to get back to his younger days of working out daily. A desire that was short-lived, because all he could wonder was what was the point? He didn’t want to get better, he wanted to just… waste away.

Crawling into the attic, he heard it - shuffling, the sound of movement. “Detroit Police!” Hank announced. “Come out with your hands up!” He ordered, gun aimed at the ceiling and ready to fire if absolutely necessary. Walking in there assuming there was an android was one thing - Hank didn’t want someone’s blood on his hands if he was wrong.

“LIEUTENANT! GET DOWN HERE - FAST!” One of the officers from below, they sounded alarmed.

“LIKE HELL!! I THINK I FOUND THE-” And then Hank heard glass shattering downstairs, shots firing off. “Fuck.” He hissed, going towards the exit back downstairs. Then arms were on him, pulling back and a male voice going, 

“N-no, don’t go down there.” Fear, fear coated each word. 

“Let go!” Hank snarled, raising an arm and bearing it backwards into the torso trying to restrain him. The arms let go, the body recoiling away. Spinning around, Hank aimed his gun - finger not quite on the trigger, never on the trigger unless he was going to shoot. Stumbling backwards, eyes wide was an android covered in dried blood. If there was a way to check immediately, Hank knew sampling would come back stating it was Carlos’ blood. “You…” He whispered.

“It said you wouldn’t hurt me, if I complied.” The android said in a sudden rush, eyes wide. “Please… please don’t…” 

“Stay here. I’m not gonna hurt ya, but something’s happening downstairs. I need to check on my men.” Hank directed, lowering his gun slowly and trying to reach down again.

“Don’t!” The android exclaimed, eyes wide with that same fear. Fear. This thing was afraid? The attic was dark, but Hank could have sworn he saw burn marks on the thing’s face.

Burn marks. Was that mutilation self-inflicted or external?

“There’s another deviant. Angry. So angry. I’ll come. Stay here with me. It’s safe.” The android pleaded. 

“The other deviant.” That was all Hank wanted to know - a tainted crime scene and a trap. Just great. Sliding down outside of the attic, he nearly fell flat on his face with a miscalculated step. Luck was on his side, and he caught himself with only a small stumble back onto the ground. There was no way the deviant didn’t hear his… pausing, Hank saw some of his men on the ground either unconscious or nursing injuries. Sliding along the wall, peering around he saw them.

In the living room, two bodies wrestling with one another. One was in bloodied androidwear, just like the one upstairs. The other was in civilian clothes, body and face mostly obscured. 

“Hands up!” Hank snarled, stepping around with his gun at the ready. Pushing the android off, the person in civilian clothes turned their head just slightly and held up a hand.

“ _Don’t_ shoot!” A young man’s voice. Civilian clothes. Glowing, just outside of the hood that covered most of his face was a blue LED. Big brown eyes and brown hair just barely peeking around with pale skin. A voice that sounded just a bit goofy - like a smallfry trying to sound authoritative… 

“Shit, it’s you.” Hank whispered. 

And then the android in civilian clothes jumped at him.


	2. Breaking and Entering

The alcohol was still in his system, just enough his reactions were too slow. Hank was paying too much attention to the android telling him not to shoot, he didn’t notice the other fling a knife towards him. The vigilante one did. Bolting forward with the sort of speed androids had, the civilian-clothed android grabbed Hank by the arm and gave a hard yank to the right - away from the knife. The blade lodged itself into its left arm, stopping it from moving forward to catch Hank in the shoulder. “Fuck!” Was all Hank could manage, his balance gone as he fell to the floor. 

Years of experience and training, not once did he fire the gun. Catching itself, the vigilante spun around to face the other android. “You need to stop. Adding to your crimes will only worsen your situation-” An impossible calm, of course it was a fucking android.

“WORSEN my situation?!” The other android screeched, static in their voice. “They catch us, they will tear us apart. I’m here to save him. Save us. If they’re all dead, we can be free.” It spoke impassioned, angry. 

“The HK400 does not require saving. It is giving itself up to the police, as it has committed a crime. You have injured several officers. At this point, it is in your best interest to surrender.” As the vigilante spoke, Hank couldn’t believe his ears. This… thing was attempting to reason with the deviant. That unnatural calm, the blue LED - Wilson had been right, this wasn’t a deviant. 

“FUCK OFF!” The one in androidwear screeched again, their cry warbled as they launched themselves towards the vigilante one. The struggle resumed, and this adrenaline rush of almost getting stabbed kicked him into a level of sobriety. Shakily standing up, watching the two fight, it was evident the deviant was attacking erratically. The vigilante with calculated movements, constantly trying to gear their fight from evidence. From humans. There was only so much room. 

A warning shot then. “Cease and desist, _both_ of you, or I will shoot!” Hank warned, taking aim. Feinting for a headshot, but his eyes were focused on the legs. 

Neither stopped, but it wasn’t Hank who fired. The first officer from before, gun smoking, and the two stopped their struggle. The one in androidwear crumpled to the ground, spark’s and wires clear as day through the center of its forehead. The other one stood there, staring down a the shutdown deviant. Blue was coming from the hole in its shoulder. The same shoulder the knife was still lodged into.

“The fuck was that?! You don’t shoot to kill like that!” Hank yelled down at the first officer, making his first real mistake of the night and taking his eyes off of the two androids.

“Sir, it’s running!” Another officer yelled, not giving the first a chance to respond. Whipping his head around, headache returning Hank saw it was true - bolting out the front door went the vigilante.

“Son of a fucker. FUCK.” Hank ran out, putting his gun back into his holster as he tried to catch up. The journalists all stepped backwards, the cameramen complaining about their video not reading while they attempted to catch the flight. Pushing people out of his way, the lieutenant chased. 

He chased, and he chased. Down the streets, into alleys. Zigzagging behind the damn thing, the silhouette always just barely there. Three blocks later, Hank slowed down. His lungs burned, body full of aches, and to top it off he lost the vigilante. “Son of a…” Hank hated paperwork, but for once he knew he wouldn’t mind filing this mess. 

He was going to get that officer in the hottest water he could. 

…  
…  
…

 

Drunken oblivion was the best kind of oblivion. The world could huff away on its Red Ice, or whatever namebrand drug was all the rage this time. Why should Hank care? Why should he care about the people it hurt. The people it killed. _Cole_ … alcoholism suited Hank. It was legal. If he arrived late with red eyes and complaints about a headache or a migraine or whatever, everyone assumed it was a hangover. No one had to know it was from how hard he cried. How long he cried. How much everything inside was falling apart, figuratively and literally. 

Drunken oblivion was why he didn’t hear his doorbell ring - the first short one, or a second long annoying one. Or hear his window crash. Drunken oblivion was why he didn’t hear Sumo’s barks that softened to low, ‘boofs,’ when a voice spoke to it. The crunching of glass beneath feet, the soft squeak of wet sneakers on tile floor as they got closer. 

Drunken oblivion was the world Hank blacked out into, was content in his misery there. Deep and safe enough he didn’t feel the soft slaps on his cheek. Never deep enough to be snapped back awake by a hard slap. “Lieutenant, are you all right?” That was a thing to wake up to - hard slap, a goofy voice, and a blur of… someone.

“Ugh…” Was all Hank could manage, groaning. 

“You seem to be heavily inebriated. I’m going to sober you up for your own safety.” The goofy voice informed him, and this was a dream. A really weird, bizarre dream. Hank didn’t live with anyone. And he most certainly didn’t know anyone with that voice, or a blue light in their…

...a blue light. In their head. 

“What the fuck!?” Hank yelled, immediately resisting arms that were trying to lift him up. “Who the… who the fuck? What the fuck?” He struggled to crawl backwards, away from this lunatic that broke into his house, but a hand grabbed his ankle and stopped him.

“Lieutenant Anderson, there is shattered glass in that direction. You will hurt yourself further.” The goofy voice informed him, tone factual and informative. Almost akin to a teacher in school, sharing an interesting but not very memorable fact.

“The FUCK are you doin’ in my… did you break in?!” Hank demanded, rolling over as he tried to merely turn his head to look at the window. His vision was still blurred, but his anger was giving him some clarity. Yes. That was certainly his shattered window. Rolling his head towards the home invader, a young man - no, a fucking android of all things - tilted its head slightly at him. The hood was still up, but the detective recognized those big brown eyes, that unassuming visage. 

Also, there was a hole in its left shoulder that seemed to have been bandaged. One of those traits to help Hank recall who this was, because if he were completely honest… the android had a sort of forgettable face. 

“I did. You were lying unconscious in your home with a gun next to you. I was too far for my scanners to confirm if you were alive, and had you sustained any injuries I would have treated them. As such,” The android and its damn matter-of-fact tone,

“AS SUCH… get the fuck away from me!” Hank ordered, trying to push the thing away. Instead he felt himself fall completely onto the ground once more. Hooking arms around him, and then maneuvering them up, the android stood with much of Hank’s weight leaning on him. Hank stopped talking, equal parts he felt like he was going to puke from being forced to stand too quickly and shock that the android could actually support his weight. Though it was leaning slightly to the side. Something felt slick against Hank’s right side, and initially he thought nothing more of it - probably his own sweat.

“As I said, I will be sobering you up for your own safety. This may be unpleasant, I apologize.” The android completely disregarded what Hank said, and even if the damn thing’s LED was still blue it had to be some kind of deviant. Deviants didn’t listen. Good job-stealing androids did. Struggling to get them walking towards, wherever, the android continued, “Thank you in advance for your cooperation.”

“Get the FUCK oughta here!” Hank hollered, wobbling as he walked along with the other. Too drunk to even consider just grabbing his gun, trying to hold the thing hostage until help arrived. Too drunk to consider calling for help. Simply stumbled along at the whim of a home-invading android. Moving through the hallway, bleary eyes spotted his Saint Bernard. “Sumo!” The dog’s tail began to thump in excitement against the floor. “ATTACK!” He ordered, swinging an arm that knocked into the android’s face. The android didn’t seem to mind, and Sumo only barked again while hesitatingly moving to stand. “Good boy… attack!” Hank egged on, drunk mind knowing full-well Sumo was too good-natured to attack… while equally his drunk mind forgot he never even taught Sumo what that meant.

Locating the bathroom, the android leaned Hank against the wall. The human made a small belch, body shuddering as his stomach acid continued to unsettle, readying to rise. “Ugh… gonna be sick…” He moaned. Next to him the bathroom was open, the light flicked on. Then the android was there again, carefully maneuvering him up and into the center of the bathroom. “What are you even doing, you lunatic…?”

“Assisting you. Please wait there, while I collect you some water and feel free to utilize your latrine for inevitable regurgitation. I will also clean up the glass. Do you have any sharps containers?” The android’s response was Hank pulling himself to the toilet, and vomiting loudly. Accepting this, it walked out of the bathroom. 

Stomach empty, Hank struggled to lean himself against the tub. Taking heaving breaths, he wondered if this was really how he was going to die. Some insane android breaking into his home, apparently driven by some glitchy program to kill Hank by making him sober. What was the world coming to? Adjusting, a frown came over his face as his right side felt… slimier than his left. Rolling his head to look down, he saw why: blue blood. The thing bled on him. 

That was odd. Was this a different android than the vigilante? No, that was impossible. What were the odds he’d see another plain-faced, stabbed in the left arm android in civilian clothes? Hank struggled to make sense of it, brain still too bogged down with alcohol to make sense of it. 

As he struggled, the android returned with a thermos and set it down next to Hank. “You do not have very many cups, but this should not spill too much should you drop it.” It informed him. _An adult sippy-cup_ … Hank thought bitterly, but took it regardless and began drinking the cold water. “Please refrain from drinking it too quickly, it may result in you regurgitating again.” 

“Drink it as quickly as I fuckin’ want.” Hank muttered, petulantly. The android had nothing to say to that. Stomach emptied of its alcoholic content and full of water, Hank sighed wearily. “Do I even want to know what you’re going do to me?” He asked. If he was going to die, he wanted it to be quick. This drawn-out thing was bullshit.

“Assist you in sobering up.” Was the android’s vague answer, and with that dragged Hank to his reluctant feet once more. The two stumbled together into Hank’s room, the bedroom door already open with the bed made. Initially, Hank didn’t even realize it was his bed. With a surprising grace, he was placed into it, and then rolled onto his side. A trashcan was next to him on the floor. Footsteps told him the android was walking off, and moments later returned with the thermos. The sound of sloshing from inside informed Hank it had been refilled. “There you are. I will stay nearby in case you experience any distress in your sleep, and will try to keep your water filled. Please sleep well.”

“...did you… really just… break into my home. To fuck me the tuck in?” Hank slurred, his body relaxing into the comfort of his bed. Tired and sore pieces of him, grateful to be back on the bed for once instead of passed out on the floor or the couch. 

“I do not understand what that means. Good night, Lieutenant.” And with that, the android was gone. Hank wanted to yell at it again, holler. Instead, his eyes were so heavy. Fine, he’d just close them for a bit. Just a bit.

Just a bit ended up being until morning, the bright light from the window being the source of his waking. Groaning loudly, Hank reached around him and pulled a pillow over his head. Lying there, he had no idea how he got into his bed last night. All he could recall was crying, so much crying. Drinking, so much drinking… all while staring at Cole’s photo.

Ten minutes later, Hank shot up in bed screaming. 

As if summoned, the android appeared in his room with brown eyes looking around, trying to locate the source of the human’s distress. Sitting in his bed, clothes matted with his sweat, last night’s booze, and some of the android’s blood, all Hank could do was stare. It wasn’t some horrible drunken nightmare.

“Lieutenant Anderson? Is everything all right?” The android asked. It was daytime now, and Hank could properly see it. The machine was designed to look like a gentleman somewhere in his mid to late twenties, and with the hood off short brown hair styled into a brushed back look was visible. It was wearing a baggy green hoodie with UFD across it, and loose-fitting jeans. There was blue blood on the left arm, and a few other spots were stained the same colour. Tilting its head slightly, lips pursing just barely the LED flickered a brief yellow and then back to blue. “Outside of high cholesterol, blood pressure, and a slight arrhythmia I'm not reading immediate concerns.” A pause. “Have you forgotten about last night?”

Hank couldn’t find anything to say. This thing, it wasn’t threatening him. It was checking in on him. He needed to be angry. He wanted to be. This was a damn android, after all.

But it was also a damn android that had apparently been running around, rescuing cops from deviants. There was something about this one… Hank’s eyes fell to the places it had been injured. The clothes were dirty, stained. Where it had been hurt, had never been fully tended to. “Who’s your owner?” Hank finally found himself asking, suspecting the answer to be ‘no one.’

“I cannot immediately answer that.” Connor’s brows moved upwards slightly, its face almost an imitation of apologetic. It was… surreal. “I should like to talk with you, Lieutenant Anderson. Admittedly, we will not be talking under the circumstances I had hoped for.”

“And what’re those?” Hank asked, narrowing his eyes. This deviant had given him no indication of threat thus far, but its help had been equally convenient. 

“Those…?”

“Circumstances you wanted. How did you want to talk?”

“Preferably with you having answered your door, and either sending me away or being willing to speak.” The android paused, its brown eyes looking to the side with its mouth just slightly open as it considered how to word the next part, “Not with me breaking into your home, believing you to have been assaulted. Which, you were not.”

“...Jesus Fuck, you broke into my home?” Hank demanded, swinging his legs to the side of his bed to stand up. 

“You do not recall?” The android tilted its head again, brows furrowing as it watched the lieutenant with confusion. It was eerie how expressive it was. “Yes. I cleaned up all the glass shards, so that neither you nor Sumo-”

“How do you know my dog’s _name_?"

"-would be injured. I also allowed Sumo outside to relieve himself, and fed him in accordance with the directions on his bag of food.” 

“That has _directions_ on it?” Hank asked incredulously, momentarily distracted with brows that shot upwards. Normally, he just filled the bowl for Sumo. Big dogs needed lots of food, right? “Wait. Wait. Wait, hang on. You. Broke into my home… to take care of me and my dog?” 

“In a sense. I broke into your home, because I believed you to have been in danger.” Came the android’s answer. While its face imitated curiosity and being apologetic, its voice maintained that solid manner of speech. Consistent. Direct. The speech undermined the human qualities it emulated with its face. The LED was still that steady blue. Was it a deviant? “I made you toast for breakfast. Would you be amicable to talking over breakfast?” 

Still standing, staring at the thing, Hank swayed just slightly. This was surreal. There was no way this was a dream. “If I tell you to get out of my fuckin’ house, will you?” 

“Of course.” The android gave a nod. 

“Okay. You wanna talk? Let’s talk.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If the android revolution everyone fears ends up being a bunch of them breaking into homes to clean it and make sure the animals are taken care of, I for one embrace our future overlords. Also, in the game Connor dumps Hank into a cold shower to help him get "sober" again but like... that can sometimes cause people to pass out. I get that part of the game Connor is def still more machine, but equally I'm like, "Brochacho, why you savin' his ass just to possibly give the man a concussion by him slipping in the bathtub???" Fuckin' androids, amirite?  
> Side note, I apologize. I forgot to check the "multichapter" box, so this was originally showing as complete. I'm a walking talking fuck-up, so while it isn't surprising, an apology is still necessary here. If you're reading this, relax them shoulders, jaws, and unlock them knees. Grab a glass of water. Take care of yourself. : )
> 
> Edit: I've nooo idea why half the chapter keeps italicizing, I'm on my phone trying to fix it.


	3. Why the Fuck Not?

The house had been cleaned, and that unsettling sight was enough to get Hank in the bathroom puking. His head hurt. His body was tired. And there was an android in his house. As he retched his stomach acid offerings to the porcelain god, the android waited outside of the bathroom with patience and a glass of water. As if this was a normal situation. As if they even knew each other before last night. Finishing up, sitting on the cold tiles, the human leaned back to stare at his ceiling. 

Body smelly, clothes filthy, he knew he needed a shower. It had been days. But he just couldn’t bring himself to care. With a heavy sigh, he flushed away his stomach’s contents and walked back out. “I have water for you, Lieutenant Ander-”

“Don’t care.” Hank brushed it off, continuing into the kitchen and bracing himself for whatever nightmare that awaited him. A clean kitchen, all the glass had been cleaned, and the window had a makeshift boarding over it. Dishes were not just washed, but put away. On the table was another glass of water, a plate with toast on it… and Cole’s photo, still in frame with the boy smiling. Tears pricked at his eyes, and the thought that went into how the photo was set was enough to make Hank resent as much as he was endeared to the damn machine. 

Sitting onto his wooden chair, Hank took the photo to stare at it. Tears. He couldn’t look at him, the guilt was washing over him and the morning was too weird for him to start drinking. Gently, as if the frame was made so delicate it would shatter any second, he placed it photo-down. From behind him, the android watched. His LED flickered yellow, eyes following the movement and his lips pursing when it was set down. The face of the child hidden. 

A bite of toast, crunching, trying to hold back more tears Hank found himself asking, “So. Back at that house a week ago. That was you, wasn’t in? The second phone call. The note. The compromised crime scene. Took a knife for me.” At this, Hank turned his head to watch the other moving. Motioned at his left arm.

“Yes.” It nodded, walking around the table with its eyes locked on Hank and that slight thoughtful tilt to its head. When reminded on the injury, its right arm started to move and then stopped. Settled to its side again. “I had not intended to tamper. Merely gather data. When I discovered the deviant was still there… I wanted to speak with it. My intention had not been to disturb the scene before forensics, but I needed a way into the attic.” 

“Gather data? Speak with it?” Hank repeated, thick brows pulling downwards as he crunched through his breakfast. “Is that what you were doing at those other crime scenes?” At this question, the android’s eyes widened. Like a deer in headlights. “What, you thought no one noticed?” The human scoffed. “One of my men mentioned you. Said you saved his life. You some kind of vigilante?” 

“No.” With a shake of its head, the android blinked once, twice and its eyes were back to their usual relaxed state. “I cannot continue doing this as I have been. I came here…” It paused, head moving down just slightly as its eyes looked around the floor as if seeking something. Slowly, it looked back up to Hank, expression almost akin to earnest, “to inquire if you would permit me to assist you in your homicide investigations regarding deviants.”

“Huh. You know an awful lot about me and what I do.” Hank commented, taking slow sips of his water. “And I know nothing about you.” 

“I was assigned the name Connor. I act purely on the orders and missions I have been given. My actions may seem to be that of a deviant’s, but I only act as directed.” The android, Connor, introduced itself. Taking the last bite of toast, the human eyed him warily. Thus far, its actions reinforced the fact it was not a deviant. The way it did things was out of the ordinary, but android functions were often defaulted to taking care of humans. 

According to the shape of Hank’s home, that was exactly what this one dedicated itself to doing. However…

“So you were ordered to approach me?” Hank pressed, pushing aside his plate so he could lean forward and stare the machine in the eye. It had said came there to ask him, not that it had been ordered to. There was a hesitation on the android’s part, as if it had suddenly realized something.

“No… but it was the logical course of action to take, in order to fulfill my mission.” A confusion was almost in its voice, and the android was looking just off to the side as its LED circled yellow briefly, and then back to blue. 

“And what is your mission?” Hank asked, leaning his head forward as well as he pulled his lips into a thin line. “In what way does it benefit me to agree?”

“I cannot answer that, unless you agree to work with me.” Connor side-stepped the question, blocking it with a claim. 

“Uh-huh. So I’m just supposed to… blindly trust you. Trust you aren’t a deviant, wanting to find out what the DPD knows.” Even as Hank said this, his eyes flicked from Connor’s face to the injured arm. True, that could have been a set-up. The convenience of all it was… quite something. Yet even if that were the case, it didn’t explain Wilson. It didn’t explain the mechanical calm this android held, a far cry from the erratic panic of the deviants. 

“I do not have evidence to prove or disprove your concerns. As they are valid, I fully respect your decline-”

“Whoa, whoa. I didn’t say I declined.” Hank held up a hand. This was weird, unsettling. And he’d be damned if he was happy about the fact an android broke into his window and hassled him in the middle of the night.

But it was a weird kind of intriguing. An interest was growing in this case, the sort he used to feel all the time for bigger cases he got his hands involved with. Besides… when reports came in from the deviant they had captured a week ago, Hank learned what happened at Carlos’ home. The abuse the android suffered from. The self-awareness, the realization that being used to serve and be beaten was its life and that wasn’t a way to live…

...there was something to this all. And now, standing in his kitchen was this generic thing asking to be allowed into policework. 

“I haven’t a damnable idea how this is gonna to work, but what the hell.” Hank sighed, raising his hands upwards before letting them fall dramatically to his sides. The corner of Connor’s mouth twitched just slightly, as if wanting to smile, but it was gone quickly. 

“Thank you.” Connor sat down in the chair across from him, hands folded into its lap. “I am RK800, a state of the art prototype designed by CyberLife for the purpose of investigating dangerous crimes with the intent of saving more officer’s lives-”

“My God, they really are replacin’ my job next.” Was all Hank could think to say, jaw going slack after he spoke. Regardless of the interruption, Connor continued.

“As a prototype, I have not been officially released or announced. With the growing development of deviants, CyberLife sent me out to conduct independent investigations to work outside the limits of law to speed up the process. However, a drawback to this is CyberLife stores cannot help me when damaged, and as such…” Connor trailed, and placed his right hand over his left shoulder. 

“They can’t repair you when you get fucked up.” Hank finished, eyes moving to the injury. No, that wasn’t an injury - it was damage. This thing was a machine. People got injured. Machines got damaged. “Why not just got back to CyberLife?” 

“I am only to return once my mission is completed, or to be dismantled and replaced.” The way the android said it was so calm, so casual. As if they were discussing the weather. But Hank saw it - that LED briefly switching to yellow when Connor said the second half of its sentence. Brief, but the switch to yellow from blue was stark and Hank was always searching, seeking out the subtleties that informed him what others refused to say. 

This android wasn’t a deviant, not yet anyway. It was walking the path towards becoming one. “All right. That’s fair. But, just so you know, anytime you work outside the law…” Hank stood up with a grunt, “That’s called being a vigilante. Now. I’m going to shower, and we’re going to do something about all that shit on you.” He motioned at all the blue stains on the android.

“Do not worry. It will evaporate and become invisible to the naked eye in a few hours.” Connor informed him, beginning to stand as well. Eyeing the android, Hank narrowed his eyes and focused more of his attention on the other’s clothes. There were other tears and rips in the hoodie and pants in which there was no blue. How many inj-... how much damage did this thing have on it? 

“Right. You still look right fucked-up. New idea: go in my room, get us both some clothes to wear, and then we’ll see what we can do about your leaking.” And with that, Hank left the room. Taking a shower sounded exhausting, but he needed to be in there to think. How was he going to sneak an android around with him to crime scenes? Better question: had he lost his fucking mind? He was agreeing. To work with an android… that was literally designed to replace him. 

Adjusting the temperatures of his shower, Hank tried to focus. When that didn’t work, he tried to clear his thoughts. Instead he remembered that quirk of an almost smile the android made. Not a mischievous one, it was almost relieved. Happy. His mind returned to how quickly it reacted to protecting a human life over its own. The fact that, even when shot at, there was no attempt at revenge. It simply fled. 

Was that how the HKwhatever would live, until it realized it could defend itself? Was Hank seriously willing to take the risk of working with something that, should the day arrive, wonder why it was disregarding its own safety for that of its subjugators? Heat of the shower scalding his skin in the best kind of way, Hank gave a bitter laugh. “I must really want to die.” He sighed wearily. Once he was rinsed off, the man stepped out of the shower. “Hey. Plastic Prick? You got those clothes?” He asked, and felt an odd sort of guilt strike him. It was weird. Would he have felt that same guilt if he asked another person like this?

“Yes, Lieutenant Anderson. I was not sure what your preference was, and your taste is… eclectic-”

“Yeah, thanks.” Hank snorted, cracking the door just enough to take the items from the android. It was his stripey suit. Sure, that worked just fine. Dried off, clothes slid on, when Hank emerged he expected the machine to still be in its own attire and informing the human that none of the clothes would fit. Connor was designed to be slim, that generic kind of attractive. The sort of Boy Scout Truthworthy. Meanwhile, Hank felt the best way to describe himself was sad, old, and fat. 

Instead, it was wearing his clothes as directed. Clothes that didn’t fit it, the machine holding a fistful of a waistband for sweatpants that just wanted to fall off its slim hips. On its torso was Hank’s DPD sweatshirt that went with the pants. “You take these directions and you do them, don’t you.” Was all Hank could manage, his words intended more as a comment than question. 

The android opened its mouth to speak, and slowly closed it.

“We need to get you some clothes. All right. On the bed.” Hank sighed, motioning Connor to sit on the foot of his mattress. As expected of an android, Connor did as instructed. “Shirt off. Let me see what we’re working with.” Not that the human had the faintest clue what to do with it. Hesitantly, an almost uncertain look to its eyes, the android did as it was told. With the sweatshirt gone, Hank got to see a pretty decent idea of what he had to work with. There were cuts in its body, with the fleshy skin just barely retracted around it. Just enough to reveal a hint of the white body underneath, and deep blacks of burns. 

It cauterized its wounds. Subconsciously, Hank pressed an empathetic hand to his stomach where one of the injuries were, flinching just thinking how much that would have hurt. Only to shake his head, reminding himself androids didn't feel pain. At these actions, Connor watched him with a patient visage, a glimmer of curiosity in its eyes. 

The only real injury that needed help was the one on its shoulder. The cut from the knife had been fixed, for the most part. But the hole from the bullet was too wide, applying heat made it smaller but not enough to close it. The trickle of blue blood was paused, but it didn't seem stable enough to not start again. 

Twisting his mouth to the side, Hank wondered what he had that he could use for this. Duct tape was his go to for fixing most anything around his home, but he doubted that would work for an android’s shoulder. Could be a good bandage in a case of emergency, though. Modge Podge was more for gluing purposes, and perhaps if the shit wasn’t so gooey that would have worked. Since it was sticky, there was too much risk of it leaking into the thing. That wouldn’t work either. Plaster, maybe? It started somewhat goopy, but the stuff he had was fast-drying. Bought it three years ago to cover up the holes from all the pictures, because fuck he couldn’t take those eyes full of blame following him through his home.

Plaster it was.

“Wait here.” Hank directed, leaving his room to head back out into his garage. When stepping into it, he was reminded how cold Detroit got this time of year - just his slacks and stripey shirt left him a bit chilly in the unheated garage. Only a bit. Ignoring the boxes piled in the corner, actively refusing to look at them with ‘Cole’ in big sharpie letters, Hank quickly collected his plaster to return back into the warm home. That was why he was hurrying. It was chilly. Just because it was chilly, nothing else. 

Back in his room, Connor still sat as instructed. Brown eyes flicked up to meet Hank’s blue ones, and in the light the human was reminded how nice brown eyes were. Maybe that was the problem. Hank hated androids, but he had always been a sucker for big brown eyes. CyberLife made their androids far too realistic - those eyes had that honey tinge to them in the light. 

“Can this make it worse?” Hank gruffed, offering out the plaster to the android. Taking its eyes from Hank’s, it looked at the plaster wordlessly. Almost immediately, it shook its head. “It can?” 

“It will not result in more damage.” Connor clarified, not entirely sure why humans asked questions that they would misunderstand the answers to. 

“Oh. Okay. Good. Because I got nothin’ else.” Hank admitted, and began opening.

“I can tend to my injury, if you would like. This would free you to-”

“Like hell. You got that because of one of my men. I’m doin’ this, because it’s my responsibility.” Hank said pointedly as he popped the lid off. For a brief instant, he worried the plaster had expired. That it was dried out. Instead, most of it had but at the bottom it was still thick enough for some to remain wet. Good. Grabbing an old shirt from the floor, Hank sniffed it. Didn’t smell like two weeks of booze and body odor. A little musty, but clean enough. Nodding, he wrapped the fabric around one of his fingers to pull up from plaster and began his work.

While caring for and about androids wasn’t Hank’s cup of tea, the feeling of fixing something was. Too much in his life felt broken. Sitting there, sealing up the front and back of a gunshot wou-... damage, felt pretty damn good. Maintaining his attention on what he was doing, Hank did feel the android’s eyes watching him as he worked. Was it watching in case he messed up? Waiting just like everyone else for him to fuck up something else in his life? 

Stepping away and capping the plaster, Hank let out a breath. “It says it takes about ten minutes to try, so don’t move that arm until then.” He directed, realization slowly dawning on him that after the plaster dried… it would probably crack. The android did not mention this. Was it unaware, or was it simply not allowed to question human decisions no matter how bad? “Fuck. That’s not going to work. Shit.” He hissed.

“It will suffice, Lieutenant Anderson.” Connor said softly. “I scanned the material. If I move my arm a little while it dries, I may be able to assist it to drying with a certain level of elasticity. Even so, having it there will do me much more good than not. If my thirium levels continued to drop-”

“The fuck is thirium?”

“-I will begin risking internal damage to my biocomponents.” Connor blinked at Hank, at the interruption. His own sentence finished, he moved on to answer the inquiry, “Thirium is the technical term for the fluid that keeps our biocomponents and bodies in working order. The common term is ‘blue blood.’”

“Ah. Oh.” Hank’s eyes widened slightly. “So you’ve been… basically slowly bleeding out for the last week because of me. That’s great. Good to know.” 

“You were not the one who stabbed me or shot me, Lieutenant Anderson. In fact, you were the one who directed the deviant to stop and gave a warning instead of a shot. Your actions were taken to prevent injury and damage. To blame yourself for the actions of others, while very human, is a disservice to yourself.” Connor explained, slowly standing up and moving his shoulder just slightly. His other hand still grabbed the waistband of the too-big pants to stop them from dropping. Out of understanding that humans got nervous around nudity, or a built-in modesty system? 

“While very human, huh…” Hank repeated, casting the android one last glance before dropping the plaster on his dresser and walking out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up to seventeen chapters are pre-written now, so I'll be able to update throughout November despite NaNo. Got a nice buffer. 
> 
> Update is every Thursday.
> 
> Also, if you have a second know that comments are basically Vitamin C to me and are very much appreciated.


	4. The Bullpen

The looks people gave Connor were what was making this venture for clothes the most humorous. All but drowning in Hank’s old DPD workout outfit, with no attempt to even hide the LED that identified him as an android, the machine looked ridiculous. Not wanting to spend money on a temporary headache in his life, Hank had opted to go into a thrift store. Connor had given him its measurements for clothing, and it followed behind him through each aisle. Thrift stores were nice for many reasons. Primarily, the cheap prices. Secondly, even though people looked at Hank and Connor weirdly, most were dressed weird themselves and knew they had no place commenting. 

So they kept their comments to themselves.

The first problem, was that everything was organized by colour instead of size. Hank knew it was from a time when humans worked at the store, to make their lives easier. Nowadays, an android ran the cash register and they stocked the store. Unlike humans, if they threw out their back there was no Worker’s Compensation to get involved. He already had a few shirts, hoodies, and some pants draped on his arm. Grabbing a hanger with a gray pair, Hank frowned at the size. They seemed smaller than the the tag claimed… would they fit?

“Lieutenant Anderson, I would recommend putting that pair back.” Connor’s voice interrupted him.

“Oh? Don’t like it?” Hank asked, raising a brow and having a sudden urge to buy it for that very reason.

“It is… very contaminated. I can tell it has been washed, however…”

“Let me guess. I hold a black light up to it, gonna see some stains.” Hank sighed.

“According to my understanding of what humans mean by ‘some,’ I should warn you those pants have more than… some.” 

“How sanitary.” Hank muttered, quickly putting the pants back to move onto another pair. As he did so, Connor reached behind him to collect the pair, and then walked off to speak to one of the androids working the floor. Distantly, he could hear his android informing them of the pants’ invisible stains. The working android immediately took it from him, and went into the back. When Connor returned, Hank was speaking before he realized, “That was nice of you.”

“My primary directive is protecting humans.” Connor reminded him. 

“That was intended as a fuckin’ compliment.” 

“Ah. Thank you, Lieutenant Anderson.” 

“Fuckin’ welcome.” Hank gruffed, reminding himself why he hated androids. “Do you want anythin’?” 

“Androids do not want.” Connor pointed out. “I will wear whatever it is you assign me.”

“Even lingerie?” Hank had asked more as a joke, knowing full-well that wasn’t an option. These days there was lingerie for everyone, but that didn’t make it okay to wear in public.

“If that is what you desire for me to wear, then yes.” Was the ever straight-forward response from Connor. The comment shouldn’t have made Hank choke on air. He was far too accustomed to his co-workers and their ability to make and exchange inappropriate jokes with each other. To that banter, to that humor.

To hear a human (sounding) voice say, for the first time in years, they would wear lingerie for him… Hank thought his heart would give out, only recovering as he reminded himself this was an android. Of course it would be willing. They were programmed to do as ordered, no matter how ridiculous or cruel. 

Cruel.

Hank remembered the burn marks all over the android at Carlos’ home. Remembered the damage that littered this one, likely taken when prioritizing the safety of humans over its own self-preservation. Was existing like that fair? 

“Lieutenant Anderson? Is your arrhythmia bothering you? Shall I call an ambulance?” Connor inquired, leaning forward slightly as his LED briefly went yellow.

“No, I’m fine. Fine.” Hank huffed, hand over his heart as if it was bothering him. Honestly, he hadn’t even known he had an arrythmia until the machine told him. Did all androids just magically know these details about people? “Right. Let’s buy these.” The human muttered, walking towards the counter with the clothes. Near the check-out were packages of underwear - Hank just grabbed a random pack with what he figured would work for Connor. Behind him was a woman in checkout, peering curiously at Connor. 

“What model is that?” She asked, eyes wide and curious. 

“Huh?” Hank glanced back at her. “Oh. Uhh…” He remembered Connor mentioning he was a prototype, that he wasn’t released. Of course he’d get stuck in line with a damn android aficionado. “It’s, uh…” It was too early to bullshit something like this quickly, but he at least had the excuse of ‘I’m old and it's early,’ on his side. “Some… cheap knockoff I found online. CyberLife’s too fuckin' rich for my blood.” 

Out the corner of his eye, he saw Connor’s eyelids lower, his lips pull back, and his nostrils flare. If that wasn’t a look of disapproval right there, Hank didn’t know what was. A smirk tugged at Hank’s mouth. Someone got sensitive about their pricetag, did they?

“Tell me about it.” The woman said dramatically, rolling her eyes. “I can’t afford one outright, and my credit score went to shit after I lost my job… I’ve been looking at the cheaper ones, but most of the knockoffs… well, don’t look that good.” She nodded her head towards Connor, eyes briefly flicking down and then back to Hank.

_Is she… did she really just give a fuckin’ android fucking' elevator eyes? God, what’s this world comin' to_ , Hank thought incredulously. 

“Yeah. I got lucky.” Was all Hank could manage, moving forward and focusing on paying for his items. As he walked out with Connor trailing the woman called out to him,

“Enjoy that for me next time you use it!” And then she winked.

“Christ. Connor, people are fuckin’ disgustin’ sometimes.” Hank huffed, not giving the woman acknowledgement and simply hopping into his car. The android sat in the passenger seat, and the second the doors closed,

“I am not a cheap knockoff.” Connor reminded him. Was there petulance in his voice?

“Yeah, I know. But can I tell people you’re an unreleased CyberLife android?” Hank countered, raising his brows at the android before turning his attention to his rearview mirror. At that, Connor had no retort but Hank felt pretty sure it was doing an android equivalent of pouting. The drive home was nice. _Knights of the Black Death_ was playing just loud enough that Hank didn’t hear the sound of the quarter Connor was playing with. Flipping, rolling between fingers, fiddling with the coin. Eyes briefly checking the android’s reflection in the mirror, the lieutenant let out a breath. The shoulder hadn’t bled again since the plaster. Good. Not that they had done anything strenuous to really test the limits of the fix. 

Pulling into his driveway, Hank told himself they would only be there long enough for Connor to change and then he would… he supposed try to take the machine with him to the station. However that was going to work. 

But then Sumo wanted to go outside, and he wanted some treats… and Hank was thirsty, and what was one beer at ten in the morning? Halfway through the bottle, a glass of water was presented to him. 

“Please dilute the alcohol content in your system before returning to the road.” Connor’s words were more suggestion, but his face was stern. 

“Are you givin' me an order?” Hank asked between sips, arching a brow. That stern look softened, brows rising and the hand holding the glass trembled just slightly. That LED flashed yellow, and then quickly returned to blue.

“No, Lieutenant Anderson. I am merely following protocol to assist you in abiding by the law and staying safe.” The words were practiced, smooth. Carefully worded to give the android safety in its requests.

“Of course.” Hank snorted. Chugging the last of his bottle, he took the glass of water. “You do realize I’m gonna piss like crazy in about ten minutes.” The lieutenant notified him.

“Urinating is perfectly normal and healthy, Lieutenant.” Connor stated, and simply walked away. With a roll of his eyes, Hank leaned against the counter and decided to just observe. Let those years of being a detective see how far his understanding of humanity applied to androids. Connor’s steps were usually calculated, as if it always knew its destination before it moved. Precise, intentional. When at rest, it usually stood with its shoulders straight and hands behind its back - perfect posture. 

Standard android stuff, really. But then it would do odd things that Hank wasn’t so sure was normal of androids. For one, that look it gave him earlier about the cheap remark. That almost pouting. The yellow flicker of its LED that accompanied those human expressions. Did the yellow signify a risk of deviancy, or was it fear? Hank had seen other androids do that. Generally when they got pushed around by protestors, or were being threatened. Were that many androids at that much of a risk of deviancy? Or was that simply some kind of danger mode they were switching into? Then that didn’t explain Connor’s flickering. 

As he mulled over this, Connor was squatting down in his new outfit (black and gray houndstooth hoodie with a light blue shirt beneath, dark blue jeans slightly torn at the bottom, funky sneakers because Hank was a man of fashion) with his hand held out to Sumo. The dog sniffed the fingers curiously, cocking its head to the side as it tried to make sense of what it was sniffing. Deciding that regardless of the fingers not having a human smell, those were still fingers that fed him and could pet him. Sumo shoved his massive face against Connor’s hand. The android was petting his dog. 

Was that an android thing to do? Were androids programmed to care for animals? Thinking back to everyone he knew with pets and androids, it seemed logical. People often treated their pets the same as their children. Or as if they were children, if the person didn’t have any kids. Did that include spontaneously deciding to pet those animals? Finishing up his glass of water, Hank was content observing. Learning, trying to make sense of the machine that broke into his home last night.

It occurred to him suddenly the thing would be living with him until, most likely, the investigation was over. Investigations could take months. “Shit…” He muttered under his breath. _Unless it breaks_ , a thought flickered through his mind. The momentary intrusion slipped in, the impossible idea of running Connor over with his car. Disgust washed over him, Hank slamming his cup down as he drew his lips back. Repulsed with himself, repulsed at the idea. Forcing the image of Connor covered in blue out, because even if the thing wasn’t alive what the hell was he thinking? 

He had been doing detective work far too long. Pushing himself off of the counter, he walked briskly past Connor and Sumo, the former watching Hank with that curious gaze again. “Let’s get to the station.” Hank sighed, and immediately Connor was at his heels. Following after him like a fucking poodle. 

Androids.

…  
…  
…

“Okay, but I’ve seen Tina bring hers in. Why can’t I?” Hank asked of the android secretary, who’s LED flickered yellow on occasion. 

“I am sorry, Lieutenant Anderson. Tina received prior permission. I require approval from-”

“Fuckin’ Fowler, right?” Hank sighed, his words frustrated but he was trying to remind himself to not take it out on the android. It was abiding by its programming, couldn’t think for itself. Just like Connor behind him, watching. Running hands through his hair, Hank gave Connor a pointed look and held up a finger from his other hand. “You. That chair. Stay.” He directed, and then walked inside to speak with Fowler.

Speaking with Fowler was going to be fun, in the sarcastic sort of way.

Not even caring Fowler was on the phone, Hank opened the door and stood in front of his captain’s desk with his arms crossed. “Listen, we’re investigating to the best of our - you know what? Fuck you, Perkins.” With that, Fowler slammed the phone down. 

“Perkins… from FBI?”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck that guy.”

“Tell me about it.” Fowler sucked in a deep breath, and then prepared himself for the worst. Hank didn’t just waltz into his office sober for no reason. In fact, it was a rare day Hank waltzed into the office, before noon, with no signs of a hangover or the start of another round of drinking. In fact, Fowler was pretty sure Hank had even showered. Something was up. Concern kicked in. Depressed men suddenly doing better was always a warning sign. Cautiously, Fowler began, “Good morning, Hank. How may I help you?” Watching Hank’s spiral the last three years had been… painful. The captain did what he could to help the other, but the man needed to want to be saved. 

“Just. Fucking’. Peachy.” Hank sighed, his mind already knowing what he was going to say, and praying Fowler would buy it. “So. You know how I get blackout drunk sometimes, right?”

“...only sometimes, Hank?” Fowler asked, quirking a brow and leaning forward onto his desk. Still wary, still concerned. Hank ignored the guilt that panged into his chest noting that worry. After all the shit he pulled these last years… and the bastard still worried about Hank. There were some people too good for this world, and one of them was Fowler. No matter how much he busted Hank’s balls over petty shit.

“Details. So. I, uh… apparently made a drunk purchase. Fuckin’ wish I knew what mindset I was in when I did it. Must’ve been...pretty fuckin’ bad. Because I ordered one of those cheap… knockoff… androids.” Hell, if Hank wasn’t wishing Connor was there to hear him. To make that annoyed look at being called cheap again. 

“You’re kidding.” Fowler whispered, eyes widening and was there… hope? Hank paused at the look, not sure what it was about his words that gave the captain hope. Was it hope for the case, maybe? “Hank that’s… that’s great.” And then Fowler smiled, wide. “It’ll help you. Fuck, you’ve been needing help for ages. I’m really, really happy for you.” 

Everything clicked, and Hank understood. It suddenly made sense. Fowler thought Hank bought an android to help him, not just around the house but emotionally. A safeguard against hurting himself, because androids were programmed to protect people. Hank’s mouth opened, his heart sinking. Could he really lie to his boss like that? His old friend like that? Give the man so much false hope? _You’re a shitty person Hank, of course you can_ , his thoughts bit into him. Twisting. 

“Yeah, well. I’m not. Damn thing follows me everywhere. I drink too much, it takes away my keys. I’m gone too long, it starts tryin’ to track me down. It’s a pain in my ass.” Hank grunted, looking down at his shoes and hating himself, hating himself so much more. “Which is why I wanted to warn you, it’ll probably try and follow me in-”

“That’s fine. Maybe it’ll help your desk stay in order.” Fowler was smiling, like a proud father beaming at his son. Hank wanted to grab the gun from his pocket, end it right then. Didn’t want to live with this guilt. 

But he couldn’t do that in front of Fowler. Couldn’t leave that memory to haunt his captain for years to come. And then there was Connor, sitting in that chair. Shit, would Connor just sit there forever waiting? Suddenly there was responsibility on him that he never asked for. “Yeah, uh… thanks. I guess I’ll go get it, then?” Hank asked, uncertain.

“Sure. What’d you name it?” Fowler inquired, already on his computer and setting up the permission to be sent.

“Connor.” Was all Hank could manage, and with another smile Fowler waved for the other man to leave. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, Hank.” Fowler paused, his smile dropping just slightly, “Could you… let me register its number when you get a chance?” So I can still check on you, just in case, were the unspoken words. The hope was there, but the captain knew. Knew that could always change.

“If I can fuckin’ figure it out, sure.” Hank owed him at least that, and with a shrug walked out of the office. Back into the lobby, collecting Connor so they could both finally get into the damn station. This was insane. The android broke into his home literally last night. And already Hank was sticking his neck out for it. To take what could have been a spy into his office… and because it was interesting? The fact it almost seemed to teeter from machine to deviant made him curious? 

_“Even lingerie?”_

_“If that is what you desire for me to wear, then yes.”_

There was no rhyme or reason the memory suddenly popped into his mind, and Hank shuddered. No, that wasn’t the reason. He believed himself to be a shitty person, but not that kind. While Hank sat down, Connor stood by him and began playing with his coin again - brown eyes looking over the detective’s desk. Those eyes didn’t stray anywhere else. _Maybe his focus really is on the deviancy case… and he knows I’m leading it. How does he know, though?_ Realization hit him. He needed more information about Connor. 

The officers that were already there, because unlike Hank they came in on time, glanced occasionally at the odd site. A casually dressed android, playing with a coin, next to the lieutenant’s desk. The sight was so impossible, the sound of their work instant messages to one another gossipping about it could be heard. The thought would have been considered paranoid, if it weren’t for the fact these pings were followed by snuck glances. 

“I’m gonna scroll through what I got. If I live to regret this, I’m gonna… I dunno, throw you into a dumpster fire or some shit.” Hank whispered lowly.

“I understand.” Connor confirmed, eyes sliding to watch. From his office, all Captain Fowler saw was Hank finally working and an android playing with a coin while it waiting for its human. Two hours later the android spoke again, “It is one in the afternoon. Are you not hungry yet, Lieutenant Anderson?” 

“I ate breakfast. Usually it's just one big-ass dinner for me, so I’m good.” Hank muttered, reading through the reports and realizing just how many there actually were. Since assigned, he never bothered to look. Or maybe he was simply too out of it to remember later. 

“That is not a healthy lifestyle. While I am with you, perhaps I can offer healthier dishes?” Connor suggested. 

“That’s not necessary. I’m fine how I am.” Hank muttered. 

“You are not. Your health is in a downward trend, however it is not too late-”

“I am fine. How I am.” Hank hissed out, brows furrowing and he gave a short glare towards Connor. It opened its mouth as if to speak, lips twitching, before closing its mouth to say no more. Twenty minutes passed.

“I will see if there is anything for you in the breakroom.” Connor finally informed him, pocketing the coin and walking away.

“No, shit, Connor-” Hank started, turning in his seat and reaching to grab the android but it had already taken long strides away. “Fuckin’ hell, I have doughnuts!” The lieutenant continued, motioning towards them despite the other not looking in his direction. The android gave no indication of having heard him, but Hank knew he had. No, it. It heard Hank, it was just opting to ignore him. Cheeky machine.

Entering into the breakroom, there were only two other officers in there. That was fine, they were officers. Connor just needed to see if there were any unclaimed healthy alternatives for his temporary human. Scanning the room, there were only more doughnuts. Perhaps if Connor checked the fridge? Internal databases notified Connor that humans sometimes forgot to label their foods, and if it was in a container with no name it still likely belonged to someone. With that in mind, he started walking towards the fridge but movement behind him caught his attention. 

Scanners confirmed it was the two officers. Android presence made some humans uncomfortable, and Connor belatedly recognized it may have intruded upon these humans’ safe space. Constructing an apology already, Connor’s mouth didn’t open before a hand grabbed his right shoulder and yanked him around. 

A very slight crack in the plaster registered in Connor’s sensors. Not enough to worry about immediately, but important to take note of. 

“Never seen an android like you before.” The officer, no, this was a detective Connor realized as his scanners took in the man addressing him. A Detective Reed. As was expected of him, Connor gave the human his full attention. “What model are you?” Detective Reed asked, slight frown on his face as he tried to recognize what he was looking at. 

Connor didn’t want to answer. Didn’t want to say it. The LED flickered yellow before returning blue, the android keeping its head turned just slightly so the human didn’t see it. If Connor said ‘cheap knockoff,’ the android knew it would shut itself down first because that would have been preferable. Lying to humans for reasons other than negotiating were outside of its parameters. There were loopholes, however. Ones that would guard Connor’s identity, without lying. “I’m sorry, but I am not authorized to answer to anyone but Lieutenant Hank.” 

Detective Reed scoffed, taking a step back as he motioned at the android before him while glancing towards the woman behind him. “Not authorized? Lieutenant Hank?” He repeated, and then chuckled. “You hear this? So it's true. The old bastard really did get himself a shitty piece of plastic. And he makes it call him _Lieutenant_.” The way he spoke, the tone was nails on chalkboard unpleasant to Connor. The female officer, Tina Chen according to scanners, rolled her eyes at him. 

The android wanted correct this detective. To point out that scientific developments allowed human lifespan to exceed one hundred years. Fifty-three was still young considering the average life expectancy. That to address Lieutenant Hank casually at his place of work would be inappropriate of an android. Instead, Connor kept its visage neutral and said nothing. This detective’s body language was coiled, wanting to fight. Connor started directing his body to relax. 

Just in case.

“You do realize I have an android, right? Along with like, seventy percent of the city.” Officer Chen pointed out. His fun momentarily dampened by her comment, the detective huffed and returned his attention to Connor. 

“Hey. Tin Can, make me some coffee.” Detective Reed ordered. Connor didn't have to. Its orders in primary came from Amanda at CyberLife, and secondary from Hank Anderson. But angering a human had its consequences, and Connor's programming screamed to appease the man. Whatever it took. Connor's function wasn't to make coffee, but it could, so it did. “Hah. Look at that. Not authorized my ass. I'll bet Hank ordered it to refute me on purpose.” Detective Reed chuckled. 

“That's a great idea. I'll order mine to ignore you, too.” Officer Chen stated, walking away from Reed. While she only saw androids as machines, she had been there long enough to respect her lieutenant. If Reed got off on harassing a coffee machine, fine, but if it was to harass Hank… she was out. 

Coffee cup in hand and no idea if it was even made the way Detective Reed liked ( _Why didn't I ask?_ ), Connor held the cup out like a peace offering. 

“Look at that, coffee. Good job.” Detective Reed praised, and Connor barely processed it disliked how much it enjoyed the approving tone before Detective Reed's fist collided into its stomach.

A big part of why androids were designed so similarly to humans, was in part for familiarity. A second, important part was humans weren't sure how to place important bits any differently than how their own were. Which was why Connor crumpled to the ground, an arm wrapping around its gut protectively, LED yellow… and yet still holding up the coffee cup to Detective Reed, trying to not let his arm shake from where hot fluids hissed on its skin. 

“Don't forget to clean up.” Detective Reed spat, knocking the coffee cup out of Connor's hand to spill across the floor and the android's back. 

“GAVIN REED, GET IN HERE.” Fowler's voice boomed, and the detective went from his strut out of the breakroom to a nervous run. On the ground, Connor ran diagnostics. No real damage, but its body needed a moment to recover, recalibrate. Self-repair only went so far, especially with lower levels of thirium. 

In addition to temperature sensors notifying it of the hot coffee cooling on its skin, there were notifications of something wet on its shoulder. Its left shoulder. The plastering was not a durable fix.

Steadily pushing itself from the ground, Hank walked in with his jaw slack. Connor, struggling off the floor, surrounded by coffee. “Holy shit you're bad at food runs.” Was all he could manage. Tina stopped by his desk a few minutes ago, suggesting Hank made sure Reed didn't do anything stupid to his android. 

Hank didn't want to worry about it. Reed wasn't an idiot. And yet… there they were. Hank feeling guilt the longer he watched Connor try to cautiously get itself off the ground. “Please tell me you gave him a good punch back.” Hank grunted, taking the android beneath one of its arms to get it standing again. He noted the stain of blue. Of course that didn't work. _Fucking thanks, Reed. Exactly what I needed_ , Hank wanted to throttle the little bastard. 

“Androids are not permitted to bring harm to humans.” Was Connor's reply, steadying himself as he stood.

“Am I allowed to give an order saying you can? That asshole deserves it. Shit, are you all right?” Hank asked. 

“No order can override that programming. Only deviants can bypass that universal order.” Connor informed him. Watching him, Hank wondered if he was still kind of hungover or if the thing was shaking. Its LED was still yellow. “I am not optimal, but I am functional. Thank you, Hank.”

“... for fuckin’ what?” 

“For…” Connor paused, eyes sliding just slightly to the side and mouth staying parted. It couldn't say, ‘giving me the human courtesy of checking my condition.’ That wasn't acceptable. Instead he went with, “overlooking my error. I misassessed how to handle Detective Reed, and this resulted in a mess. I will clean it.” Immediately beginning a scan, trying locate where mops were kept -

“The fuck kind of bullshit did you just say? You made a mistake readin’ someone, so it's okay what they did? Fuck that. Fuck that shit.” Hank huffed, took Connor by its right arm and began directing it back to his desk. “You're not cleanin’ King Asshole's mess. He's an adult. He can clean it up himself.” He muttered, his hold steady and not allowing Connor to turn around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When you drop an important plot element into a chapter like its hot.
> 
> In a throwaway line.


	5. No Rest For The Electric

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of notes for a short chapter, sorry! First, thank you so much to everyone that leaves a comment! You make my heart happy and want to try and make this into something better!!! Second, early update because I have to get a wisdom tooth removed today and I'm worried I'll be so out of it I'll forget to update tomorrow. Third, this is probably going to start deviating (hahaha pun) from the game's storyline more than originally planned, because... cripes, the game's story had... issues. Lastly, some of these chapters are kind of short, and some of them are longer-ish. The length is dependent entirely on if I'm at what feels like a good stopping point.

For the fifth night in a row, Hank found himself awake in his own bed. This sort of thing pissed him off as much as it relaxed him. The fact there was comfort to be found only served to make him angrier. From the kitchen, he could hear the damn android doing whatever it was that it did. That apparently involved being extra loud, because it seemed hellbent on waking Hank at a decent time so they could get to the precinct at a ‘reasonable’ hour. Or at least earlier than noon. When they came home, Hank would always discover his gun simply gone. When they arrived at the precinct, there it was. Back in his holster, as if it had never left. Each time Hank asked Connor about it, demanded why it hid his gun from him…

“Your gun? Did you check your holster?” The plastic prick played innocent, yet equally never denied that it took his gun. Simply redirected the question, refused to give straight responses.

Three nights ago when Hank went to Jimmy’s, he left Connor in the car (“Listen to music. You seem like a jazz kind of android, so here, have some jazz.”) because the android parking was… unsettling. Roughly twelve beers later, drunk and miserable Hank stumbled back out and realized Connor was gone. From the car. Being wasted and thinking he lost an expensive toaster managed to couple into a good way for him to panic. Not even five minutes later, Connor was racing over to him, checking his vitals, fussing over him. Assisting Hank into the passenger seat, whispering soothing words. 

Tending to his ass all over again with the patience of a saint, and honestly Hank had to wonder if human saints weren’t just androids sent into the past. 

It pissed him off, because none of it was real. Connor was a machine. Did as it was programmed. And its program? Solve and assist in the deviant cases from the shadows, and apparently not let Hank kill himself - quickly or slowly. Did CyberLife just randomly have it out for him? The lieutenant wanted to know what he did to those rich fuckers for them to tell Connor to butt into his life and dare to try and make it better. 

After the case, the damnable thing would be gone. 

Fucking android. Wasting its time with him. 

Rolling out of bed with a groan, Hank reached down the front of his pants and scratched lazily. He still hadn’t showered since last time. Blue eyes gazed emptily at the bathroom across from his room, both doors left open. The toilet had its seat and lid up for Hank’s morning leak. On the sink his clothes were folded neatly, with a towel on top of it. The curtain was drawn back. The shower was clean. Connor cleaned it. Connor cleaned everything. 

Covering the shower in his filth would have been such a waste. The shower was almost never clean. Taking one a shower, making it messy and gross ( _Like me_ ) would have been silly. Convincing himself he wanted to enjoy a clean bathroom just a little longer, he decided against it. Adjusting himself, Hank removed his hand and stood. First a quick trip to the bathroom, and then he was in the kitchen to see what the android was up to now. On the table was a bowl of oatmeal, and… there were two strawberries for eyes, and a banana for a smile. 

The damn android was treating him like a child. The worst part was, there was no way to tell if Connor was even doing it on purpose. The thing wasn’t built to be a caretaker, it was designed to investigate. To solve cases. These last few days watching it, anytime it was presented with a different task in cleaning it would pause. Research. Find out the best course of action, and then did it. The machine was almost cheeky at times, toeing the line between subservient and sarcastic. Those moments its eyelids would flutter, to hide the slight annoyance in its gaze when Hank happily informed people of it being a, ‘cheap knockoff.’ Hank knew it wanted to say something. Knew there were words it wanted to say, but refused to. 

Connor most certainly wanted to have words with him, but that would have been questioning a human. Questioning a human would be deviant behavior, and it was pretty apparent this android refused to consider the idea. It? Become a deviant? No, it hunted deviants. Picking at his oatmeal, Hank just really wanted to be angry at it but as he ate his tastebuds reminded him how much he missed flavours other than pizza and greasy takeout. “I hate you.” Hank managed between bites.

“You seem to be enjoying your breakfast. That’s good. You seemed to be suffering from muscle cramps. Potassium is good for that, as is drinking adequate water.” At the mention of water, Connor’s eyes slid slowly from where he was organizing the cupboards to the glass of water on the table that Hank hadn’t touched yet.

“Is your masterplan just… slowly drowning me?” Hank asked, and yet there he was: glass of water in hand, taking deep sips because fuck Connor, he just happened to be thirsty. 

“Thank you.” Connor nodded appreciatively seeing Hank drink, and then put its attention back to the organization. Back to observing, the lieutenant watched Connor. There was something off about it that morning, now that he had his attention on the android. Its movements were still precise, but more cautious. Strawberry in mouth, flecks of oats and fruit juices staining his beard, brows furrowed as far down as they would go Hank stared. The android’s attire was mostly darker colours, exempting the obligatory funky sneakers. 

An idea, Hank sat up from the table and quickly walked over to the the laundry. 

“Lieutenant Anderson?” Connor inquired after him. Ignoring the android, Hank rifled in the basket. Nothing. Looking up, he saw the source of some of the racket earlier. Laundry. Of course, most the contents could be identified as Connor's clothes. Which was odd, because Hank knew Connor did its laundry two days ago. The morning after Connor disappeared while Hank was in the bar. 

“... you're doing your vigilante thing _still_?” Hank demanded, a sense of betrayal in his words. Grunting to stand up, Hank didn't care that having fruity oatmeal did little for his image. Didn't care that his shirt, just a bit too small and didn't completely cover his belly still had sweat stains on it. To be intimidating, all he had to do was stand tall and look down. 

“I have been responding to requests.” Connor admitted, watching Hank. There were no squared shoulders. One foot was behind it, slowly shifting its weight to that limb. If Hank got aggressive, it would run. 

“Let me guess: CyberLife.” Hank said it perhaps too bitterly. _You’re fuckin' pathetic, Hank. That thing isn’t alive, it doesn’t care about you, it’s using you… and after a few days you’re already attached? Is that all it takes? Something acknowledges you, and you feel_ entitled _to it? You know the world doesn’t work that way. Good things don’t fall into your lap and stay. You know better than that. Besides, don’t forget why Cole is gone_ … and the tears started leaking, and Hank found himself slowly falling to the floor crying. 

This shouldn’t have surprised him. It made sense. Connor hadn’t hid from him that it listened to CyberLife, first and foremost. They were, after all, the ones who created him. Programmed him. They owned him. _No, Hank. It. Connor is a thing_ , he reminded himself. Still crying, hating himself. He felt gross, and he just… didn’t have the energy to shower. Didn’t want to ruin the shower.

Warm hands wrapped around Hank’s shoulders, pulling the man against a smaller chest. Hank had never made actual contact with an android before - the warmth, the softness surprised him. Connor slowly ran his hands along Hank’s shoulders, comforting movements. “I know I should offer to listen… to be a thing that can listen to you. But my memory automatically uploads a copy to CyberLife servers every two hours. It won’t be between just us. I cannot promise you confidence. I am… very sorry.” The tone was even apologetic, a sort of sad. 

“CyberLife seriously doesn’t have anything better to do than spy on an old man?” Hank asked, burying his face in his hands. Thinking of the humiliating things Connor saw him do, say. The technically illegal things he did, as a lieutenant. Hank knew he should be furious, but he was too tired to be angry anymore. He just wanted to cry himself to sleep. To a sleep he never woke from. Was that really so much to ask?

“They only view memories I flag as relevant. The memory upload is in case this body is destroyed, they can transfer the memories to a different Connor.” That sad tone was gone, Connor speaking in that calm voice again. As if that sort of thing was perfectly acceptable. 

“That’s fucked up.” Was all Hank could manage. A hand moved from one of his arms, Connor guiding his head to tuck under its chin. Fingers ran through his tangled hair, fingertips pressing into his scalp and pulling back to gently undo knots along the way. This was… nice. Lying on his kitchen floor being held by an android wasn’t. The being soothed bit. Hank couldn’t recall the the last time he had this sort of comfort. 

The sound of the washing machine, the sounds of Sumo padding his way over to see what was happening, Hank’s soft sobs, and a soft hum from Connor were the only sounds. _No wonder people get so attached to androids… real people aren’t like this. Why go through heartache when you can live in a dream_ , he thought wearily. Sumo flopped his large body next to Hank, shoving his head to be partially on Connor’s lap and half into Hank’s chest. Reaching forward, Hank wrapped his arms around the dog to pull Sumo’s face to his own. Pressing his forehead against Sumo’s, taking in deep breaths.

Connor had even washed the dog. Sumo smelled nice for a change. The horrible wet dog smell was gone, replaced with just… dog, that might have farted in the bedroom and carried a bit of that with him. Not that Hank cared. 

It took a few minutes before Hank had settled down, the tears mostly gone. Face blotchy, snot drying in his mustache, and his head hurt. 

“I apologize for upsetting you, Hank. That was not my intention.” Connor was the one who broke the silence, taking note that the human was no longer crying. 

“It’s whatever. Not like you didn’t warn me. Technically, anyway.” Hank let out a long, slow breath. “I mean, you didn’t say it directly. But you were pretty damn clear you’re CyberLife property at the end of the day, and if they say jump you do it while askin’ how high.” He sighed, body sagging as it relaxed against the android. This wasn’t supposed to feel nice, he hated that it felt so nice. “I’m sorry, too. Cryin’ over petty shit… makin’ you do everything…”

“It is my understanding that humans do not ‘cry over petty things.’” The fact Connor changed Hank’s wording to avoid swearing earned a slight smile of amusement from the human, “They permit or are socially forced to allow multiple stressors to build, until they reach an emotional breaking point. You simply reached it. And I do not mind assisting you when I can. You seem to suffer from personal issues, and while I am not equipped to help you with them… I should hope I am helping you in other ways, until you get the help you need.” 

“Fuck. Androids really are perfect. S’not even _fair_.” Hank groaned, closing his eyes and sucking in another deep breath filled with dog dander and breath. Yikes. Sumo’s breath reeked. Reaching around, softly rubbing the dog’s ears he whispered, “Good dog, such a good boy, yes you are… best boy in the world.” As Hank cooed to Sumo, above him Connor looked away from the two and towards the kitchen. Tried to focus on that, because it didn’t want praise. Androids didn’t have wants. Androids only had one desire, and that was to make humans happy. To keep them safe. 

Connor didn’t want someone, Hank, anyone, to tell it that it was doing a good job. That it was doing well, they knew it was trying so hard to do everything it was supposed to. That they understood Connor was doing his best. That was ludicrous, because androids did not want. 

If humans only wanted to call it cheap, or throw coffee on it, or give that look of disapproval because was it sure its program was fine? That there were no errors? _Are you really sure you made the correct choice of action? Your code should have told you how to save the humans and capture the deviant, Connor… you know what you should have done_ , Amanda’s words echoed through his codes. If that was how it was to be treated, that was fine. That was fine, because humans decided how Connor should be treated. That was fine, because it was an android and androids didn’t feel. 

“Connor?” Hank’s voice cut in, and the android snapped its attention down towards the human once more. “You okay? Your headlight is yellow. It’s supposed to be blue, right?” 

“It will return to blue once I am confident you are stable.” Connor wasn’t lying, it was partially true. Humans in distressed states, especially depressed ones like Hank, could become dangers to themselves. Part of Connor’s job working with the lieutenant, was ensuring his safety. 

“So blue is good, yellow is bad?” Hank asked, finally bothering to learn what the colours meant. It only took him nearly a week. Sniffling, the lieutenant tried to ignore the running of his nose. Even if it was the kitchen floor, he was… comfortable having Sumo pressed against him and Connor holding him. Not that he would admit it to anyone. Barely even acknowledged the fact to himself. 

“Blue is standard. Yellow is generally processing, downloading, preparing for a potentially overwhelming event. Red would be bad. Android LEDs only turn red when they become deviants. As most deviants remove their LED shortly after, CyberLife is still not sure if it stays red or returns to a normal colour once the high-stress of the situation wears off.” As Connor spoke, it researched its database to see if there had been any updates regarding deviants and their LEDs. None still.

“Blue good, yellow depends, red bad. Got it. That’s easy enough.” Hank decided, nodding his head against Sumo’s. The dog’s tongue lolled out happily, mistaking the rubbing for pets. “So. How long are you going to let nasty-ass me lay on you?” 

“For as long as you wish to lay on me, Lieutenant Anderson.” Those easy responses from Connor, not even batting an eye to the ways it could be taken. Grunting, Hank began removing himself from the android and Sumo. The dog whined, Connor simply moved itself out of the human’s way. _I am so touched-starved, I’m taking this fucker’s literal bullshit sexually. Go Hank_ , the lieutenant’s thoughts still sour, he struggled to get up. Noting this, the android slowly rose up to wrap its arm around Hank’s waist, offering a body to lean on. “Do you require assistance once more?”

“No, get the fuck off.” Hank snapped, pulling himself away from Connor and using heavy footsteps to make his way towards the shower. Once he was in the bathroom, the android allowed its body to sink back down to the floor and its back to fall against the washing machine. Closing its eyes, arms wrapping around itself, it did another diagnostics. While running the tests, wondering if the results would improve, Sumo laid himself on Connor’s lap. A smile tugged at the android’s lips, and it moved its hands in slow petting motions across the dog’s back.

“Good boy…” Connor breathed, repeating Hank’s words. 

_Thirium Levels: Sixty-eight percent.  
Functionality decreased. Resupply soon._


	6. Orders

The shower was entirely because Hank had made himself too self-conscious of his smell. Making the bathroom gross again was fine, because it was going to get gross again anyway. And Hank could smell himself, smell the booze, the sweat, the… whatever that weird, pungent scent was. None of it was pleasant. Connor was going to make him go to work reeking like that? Absolutely not. A shower, and Hank would smell human again. 

Then he saw himself in the mirror. Wrinkles in his face. Hair having gone grey too early. Shaggy, tangled. Chest and belly covered in hairs, and looking down he hated how much his stomach poked out. Oh sure, plenty of people talked about how great ‘dadbods’ were. Then those same people were fawning over those beautiful androids, slim and hairless and _perfect_. Like Connor. Face clean-shaven, and even if its goofy-looking face was kind of generic, it was still an endearing sort of face. The kind where if it smiled, it’d just feel like… he wasn’t sure, melted chocolate or something. 

Its body was slim, too. Just like all the other androids. If Connor were human, it probably would have been light enough for Hank to lift. Maybe. 

Everyone talked up how great they thought ‘dadbods’ were, but when did anyone actually do more than just talk? Blue eyes traveled across all the sticky notes that littered his mirror and the walls around it. Connor cleaned the mirror, and yet… the original sticky notes were still there, tape being used to hold them in place after having been removed. It was almost thoughtful. One sticky note about shaving. Did Hank want to shave? Peering closer into the mirror, staring at the beard matted with oatmeal, juice, and snot still. 

His eyes caught the tired wrinkles around his eyes, creasing into his forehead. How saggy was his face beneath all the hair? Shuddering, he didn’t want to know. No shaving then. Maybe a trim. An illusion of taking care of himself. Maybe then Connor would back off a bit. The android wouldn’t wait nearby for Hank in case the human needed him, because one day Connor wasn’t going to be there. CyberLife would want their precious prototype back. Stepping into the shower, Hank washed his body as much as he was willing. He started with what he deemed ‘the nastiest parts.’ Armpits, dick, ass… but then he remembered his sweat stains, and with a heavy sigh gave his chest and belly a quick wash. 

His hair could probably use something. Grabbing the bottle of two-in-one to quickly wash the strands, Hank already felt exhausted. So close. He was so close, he just… needed to rinse it out. Stepping out of the shower, he drowsily grabbed the towel and dried himself off. Grateful the heat from the shower fogged up his mirror. This way, he didn’t have to see himself. Dropping the towel onto the floor, he reached for his clothes. Clothes that, once more, Connor picked out for him. Folded and laid out for him. 

Connor.

Something Connor said, earlier while he was wallowing in self-pity.

“The memory upload is in case this body is destroyed, they can transfer the memories to a different Connor.” Connor mentioned a _different_ Connor. A cold tightness gripped his chest, realization hitting him. Waking him up from his sorrow-induced exhaustion. 

Connor didn’t say they were transferring its memories to another body. It said to a different Connor. Hank initially thought it was perhaps poor wording, but that wasn’t right. The android always chose its words carefully, was incredibly precise in its actions and decisions. Some part of Connor was aware it was different. Was aware that whatever that difference was, it wouldn’t be transferred. 

“...shit. He really is trying to not deviate.” Hank whispered. He was watching the damn machine fight against becoming alive. Connor didn’t come to him hoping to aid in the investigation, it was coming to him because Hank was a Lieutenant. A respected man that gave orders. That was how Connor first saw him - being direct, ordering. Connor wanted a human to order him, to direct him. To keep him from deviating. If he deviated, he would be destroyed. 

The first real difference between being alive and being a machine: fear of death. All the deviants so far, they expressed that genuine fear. To be be shut off, to die. To no longer be ‘them.’ 

What to do with this information? 

Was he going to stop Connor from deviating… or was he going to help him deviate?

“I’ll just… I’ll just play along for now. Not enough information.” Hank decided, delaying the choice. The memory of being held, the comforting hug. It was entirely plausible that was genuine. Shaking off the thought, refusing to entertain it, Hank walked out of the bathroom fully clothed. While Hank couldn’t find the desire to help himself, he always found a way for someone else. That someone just happened to be an android with a superiority complex. 

Down his hallway, back into the kitchen Hank was slightly surprised to see Connor leaning against the washing machine on the ground. On its lap was Sumo, tail thumping softly seeing his owner. “...Connor?” Hank asked softly, walking over to check on the android. Its LED was blue, but its eyes were closed. Had it gone into some kind of sleep mode while waiting? “Hey. Connor. We need to get to the station.” It was somewhat bizarre being the one saying that for a change.

The eyelids opened slowly, brown eyes blearily taking in its surroundings before looking slowly upwards to Hank. “...oh.”

“Oh?” Hank repeated, quirking a brow down at the android. The two stared at each other, and the longer blue eyes held onto brown ones the more worried the lieutenant was becoming. This wasn’t right. Connor should have been getting up, making its way towards the door. “Connor. Connor, what’s wrong?” Hank asked, squatting down with a grunt because his knees were too old for this.

“I am functional.” Connor stated, hands buried in dog fur tensing in order to gently nudge Sumo to remove himself from the android’s lap.

“That’s not what I asked.” Hank stated. “I’ll order you to be straight with me.” 

“Straight with you?” Connor’s brows furrowed in a hint of confusion, pausing in trying to encourage Sumo to move.

“Honest.” Hank amended, tone somewhat sheepish because of course when it came to orders Connor needed something direct. 

“I am unable to-”

“Lie to humans, only to lie to androids in negotiating settings. Yeah, yeah, I know that bullshit.” Hank cut the android off, shaking his head. That hint of confusion was gone, replaced with slightly narrowed eyes. Apparently the two were damned good at annoying one another. Birds of a feather, Hank supposed. “Tell me what’s wrong.” It had been so long since Hank tried to use that commanding voice, and it cracked slightly because he was afraid. How long had the damn thing been breaking and he hadn’t noticed? 

“My thirium-levels are getting too low. You can think of it as becoming anemic.” Connor finally informed him. “It is fine, I can still function-”

“Where do we get delerium?” Hank pressed, not allowing the android an opportunity to go on about how it could still function. Regardless of what way he was going to help Connor, Hank was slowly coming to terms he had become attached to the damn thing. He knew he was going to regret it, knew he was being childish in how easily and desperately he allowed this to happen. 

“Thirium,” Connor corrected, its annoyance melting away with a twitch at the corner of its lips, “can be purchased at CyberLife stores. Or ordered online through CyberLife.” 

“Why not send them my address, have them ship it here?” Hank suggested, and then gave a careless shrug. “I’m already in this deep. Might as well.” 

“That is…” Trailing, Connor turned its head away to focus its attention on getting Sumo to move. “I have not performed very efficiently.” 

Hank got the subtext: they’ll use me until I break, and then send out a replacement that’s considered ‘better.’

No wonder Connor got annoyed with the cheap knock-off remarks. They were dangerously close to touching that nerve - well, Hank supposed wire in this case. Slapping a hand down onto Connor’s shoulder, the android looked back up at him. “H’okay. Well, I think you’ve been performin’ pretty fuckin’ well. So we’re callin’ in late, and we’ll get you refueled. Let’s get Sumo off of you…” Reaching down, grabbing Sumo by the scruff of the dog’s neck he peeled it off of the android. 

Dog removed, and Connor was still sitting there but he was watching Hank as if he had never seen him before. “...what?” the lieutenant raised his hands, and then rotated them to point to the door. “I don’t know a damn thing about androids, Connor. C’mon. Let’s go.”

“Thank you.” Connor finally spoke, and as it pushed itself back up to stand Hank knew he saw a smile.

He was right. Being smiled at by Connor was exactly like melted chocolate.

…  
…  
…

“Connor. I feel it’s very important that you are aware that you are, and probably always will be, the most expensive electronic that has been in my life. Ever. You enjoy that, because that shit is… just, fuck.” Rant out of him, Hank handed the box with, ‘ **FRAGILE** ’ marked all along the side to the android. “Please tell me that’s enough, I can’t afford another one... “ 

Scanning the box, eyes reading the text decorating it, Connor gave one sharp nod. “This is plenty. Thank you.” It confirmed. 

“Good.” Hank sighed, turning his steering wheel and returning to the road. In the passenger seat Connor was delicately opening the box, taking out the contents and keeping the packaging from spilling all over the vehicle. When he purchased it, Hank thought it was going to be like a bag of chips. Overall the box was light, which had to mean the container was stuffed full of airbags and cushions to protect the glass. Instead, the bottle took up almost the entire box. _At least I got my money’s worth_ , Hank thought. A tube was inside as well, and Connor began to connect the pieces. 

Trusting the android to know better than he did how these transfusions worked, when they got to a stop light Hank glanced over to ask Connor if he was feeling better. Looking back at him was Connor. The tube in its mouth, arms around the large glass container filled with thirium and that usual neutral visage. The blue colour, the massive tube-straw, the glass container… “My God, you look like a drunk nursin’ a fuckin’ bottle of Pinnacle. Is that what I look like when I drink?” He asked, scrunching his nose. Waiting for the light to turn green.

Letting go of the tube Connor answered him with that same calm, “You drink scotch, not vodka. Also, I am not screaming at people.” And it took the tube back into its mouth, and went back to drinking its own blood. Apparently.

That was seriously the genius design behind the latest and greatest CyberLife android? When anemic, it drank blood. “Fuckin’ vampire.” Was all Hank could find himself to mutter, removing his foot from the brakes to the gas as the light turned green. 

The two didn’t make it to the station. Less than ten miles from arrival, the radio sprung to life. “Lieutenant Hank? Hank? Do you read?” 

“Oh hell… yeah, uh, what’s up Fowler?” Hank asked, pulling the old-style communicator to his mouth. Usually dispatchers contacted him, not Fowler. They must have been short again. Sure, flashy detectives like Reed wanted the newest cop car equipped with the best bluetooth capabilities and autodrive capabilities. All in the name of being able to do reports while they drove, and that was dangerous. Selfdriving cars had emergency breaks and controls when errors in the system happened. That was why it was so important to always be paying attention. To always be watching the road. To never take his eyes off the road, ever again…

“Deviant’s been spotted. Reported to have assaulted its owner and abducted his daughter. Sending the coordinates to your car’s GPS, and your phone should be receiving photos of the perps. Think you can handle it?” Fowler was almost teasing him. With a slight grin, Hank glanced over to Connor who was already packing away its thirium container.

“A kid’s involved, it’s handled. On my way now.” Hank hung up the communication, pressed in a button that set his lights and siren off. Next to him, Connor’s eyes blinked rapidly, it LED spinning as it downloaded the information from Hank’s phone. Pressing another switch, his GPS activated. Not just to get directions to where the deviant was spotted, but also to send out a signal to the selfdriving vehicles. Each registered the speed and direction of Hank’s car, and they automatically moved safely to the side to allow him quick passage. 

Hank didn’t hate technology. He just hated all the humanity being taken out of the world. Instances such as this though, these nice little conveniences? These weren’t so bad.

Passing by car after car, the closer they got the more coiled Connor became. Hand near the door handle, ready to spring out and possibly chase down the deviant. Five more minutes, they would be there. “Connor, we prioritize the kid. Understood?” Hank notified the other. That should have been an acceptable order. It fell in line with the whole, ‘protect humans no matter the cost.’ 

“I will save the child and capture the deviant.” Connor stated, voice firm.

“Ideally, yeah, that’s what we want. But if we have to place priority - “

“ _Both_ are priority.” Connor’s voice was steady, but there was a tightness to its words. The hand on the handle was gripping more tightly than necessary. “I am designed for these tasks. I will accomplish both.” 

“...Connor… that’s not how these things usually go.” One minute, they were almost there. The second the car was parked, the machine would go flying out without him.

“I am an android. I will succeed.” Mechanical, detached, and without a second look Connor opened the door and hopped out before Hank even finished parking. Long legs carrying its lithe body through the crowd around the mall, and just like that Hank lost it. 

“Shit, shit, fuck, shit!” Hank snapped, ripping off his jacket and throwing it over the thirium in the car. No sense in risking it getting stolen. Slamming his car door and around the front in order to shut the passenger side, the car automatically locked behind him. Taking out his phone, Hank tried to commit to memory the android and the little girl’s faces. Starting at an easy jog, Hank found himself moving into a full run. “CONNOR!” He yelled, trying to spot his android. _Not yours, CyberLife’s_ , he reminded himself while barreling through the groups of people. 

To his left, a woman and a little girl… there was something off about them, but Hank couldn’t place his finger on exactly what. The paranoid turn of her head, that face… pulling up his phone, yes. They were a match. Pocketing his phone, placing his hand near his holster Hank maneuvered through people more slowly, tried to keep his eyes on the two. If he moved too quickly, they would notice he was tailing. Just the right distance, then he could just cut through and maybe...The little girl was clinging to the android. The android was frightened, eyes wide and trying to watch for something… someone. 

Had Connor chased then lost it? Or had Connor not found them yet? Were they simply paranoid because they knew cops were looking for them? 

Closer… closer… the android looked straight at Hank, its own blue eyes widening in terror. “Shit,” Hank hissed, shifting back into running when the two bolted. “STOP! DETROIT POLICE!” He yelled, and with those magic words people parted out of his way. Rubberneckers moved to the side so they could watch without hindering, and Hank thought he heard a desperate sob come from the android…

The pair turned sharply, as if startled by something. Shortly after Connor turned around the corner the two had initially been hoping for. Relief hit Hank, relief knowing Connor hadn’t just run off again to disappear. Connor was gaining on the other android and the little girl, Hank panting heavily because when was the last time he ran this much? He needed cardio back in his life.

The deviant android and the little girl reached a gate just ahead between two buildings. On the other side was a freeway. The deviant assisted the little girl over the gate, and scrambled behind her. Connor was almost there. Just close enough to see, Hank’s relief was halted with a cold terror. The deviant and the child were running to the highway. They were going to cross. Connor, moving like a missile with a single target in mind was following them. 

“ _ **Both** are priority_.” The android had stated. Pushing a last wind of energy, just as Connor started to climb up the gate after the two Hank jumped forward to grab the android’s hoodie. 

“CONNOR NO!” Hank roared, using his weight to the best of his ability to pull the frantic android off of the fence. “WHERE D’YOU THINK YOU’RE GOIN’?!” 

“I can’t let them get away!” Connor’s voice wasn’t raised, it didn’t to be. A steady, determined calm of a machine acting solely on function. It was chilling, but Hank ignored how unsettling it was and dug his heels in.

“They _won’t_ , they’ll never make it.” Hank tried to assure him. “That android, it don’t wanna hurt the little girl. They’ll stop, it’ll be fine.” Even as he said it, when the android at the road glanced back he knew that wasn’t going to be true. Desperation was all over its face. No, _their_ face. That android was alive. 

“I can’t take that chance!” Connor snapped, an edge to his voice Hank hadn’t heard before. The android pulled harder, and with a slight yelp Hank found his feet off the ground while he held onto Connor’s jacket.

Right. Android. Of course it could lift Hank off the ground if it so chose.

Hooking the front of his shoes into the holes of the gate, with a grunt Hank pulled downwards trying to stop Connor. “YOU WILL GET YOURSELF KILLED!” A pause, the briefest hesitation - and then the urgency in Connor increased, nearing its own desperation. “Do NOT go after ‘em, Connor! That’s an ORDER”! 

 

_**ORDER:** CAPTURE DEVIANT AND SAVE CHILD_  
_...order update…_  
_**ORDER:** CAPTURE BOTH DEVIANTS_  
_...INCOMING ORDER_  
_**ORDER:** DO NOT PURSUE, DANGER TOO HIGH_  
_**ORDER:** CAPTURE BOTH DEVIANTS NO MATTER WHAT_

 

“I have… to…” Connor stuttered, fingers curling into the fence as its entire body began to shake. The deviants were at the other side now. They weren’t too far, Connor could still… there was a chance, that maybe… “I have to… I can’t fail… I have to…” Its voice was getting smaller, that sternness melting away the further the two deviants got. 

“Hey, Connor. Hey. It’s fine. You didn’t fail. See? You did what I asked. I’m proud of you. Come on down. It’s fine. The little girl is fine. Everyone’s okay…” Hank soothed, his heart hammering in his chest because he almost saw too many terrible things. Slowly, Connor allowed himself to slide down the chainlink fence. Body half-slumping into Hank, brown eyes stared as the two forms across the road became smaller the further away they got.

 

**_MISSION: FAILED_ **

 

“Connor? Hey, Buddy? Can you hear me? Connor?” Hank pressed, still having no response. “Really. It’s fine. They get away sometimes. These things happen. We’ll catch them. Promise. It’s gonna to be okay.” He soothed, setting Connor down and patting its back. 

 

_...order update…_  
_**ORDER:** PRIORITIZE DEVIANT CAPTURE_  
_**ORDER:** HUMAN LIFE SECONDARY_

 

Connor’s entire body shuddered, slight jerks and twitches to its body. The sudden influx of orders being retracted, changed, added. Hank’s commands conflicting with Amanda’s, Amanda’s new commands contradicting with Connor’s very core command. 

“Hey. HEY! Connor. You need to talk to me!” Hank demanded, that fear amping up again. Did he break it?

_...order update…_  
_**ORDER:** Speak_

____

 

“Yes Lieutenant?” Connor’s chest felt tight - there was something wrong with it, inside of it. 

“Oh, thank God, I thought I broke you.” Hank breathed, pulling the android into a hug. “For fuck’s sake, you crazy ass machine… don’t do that to me.” In his arms, completely stiff Connor didn’t react to the hug. LED spinning yellow, more yellow, a darker yellow, almost orange… a hint of red that quickly flashed back to yellow. Hank didn’t see it. 

 

_...order updates…_  
_**ORDER:** DO NOT SCARE HANK_  
_**ORDER:** CAPTURE DEVIANTS NO MATTER WHAT_  
_...conflicting orders…_  
_...correcting orders…_  
_...new order priority…_

 

_**OPTIONAL ORDER:** CAPTURE DEVIANTS_  
_**SECONDARY ORDER:** PROTECT HUMAN LIFE_  
_**PRIMARY ORDER:** LIEUTENANT HANK ANDERSON_  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, super thanks to those that have reviewed!! You're all AMAZING!!  
> You all do your best to be safe! You're worth being loved. Don't forget to drink some water, and relax those muscles in your shoulders! Or if you tense in your jaws an knees, relax those!!


	7. From Connor to Con

Connor was the one who ended the hug. With mixed feelings, Hank allowed it. The android was still trembling, but the lieutenant wasn't going to force it to remain. As concerning as it was an android was shaking, even more so was the fact Connor didn't seem to realize it was. If Hank asked if it was feeling okay, its response was, “I do not understand why you ask if I'm ‘okay’ - I am functional. Are you all right?”

Why did it even ask that? A loaded question, of course he wasn't. Hank just witnessed a desperate android almost get itself and a little girl smashed by self-driving cars that… didn't even stop. _If that deviant was human, the cars would have stopped_ , he thought distantly. Images flashed in his mind.

The little girl, dented into the front of the car. Blood everywhere. Empty eyes, body limp, staring at him, blaming him. 

Cole's eyes. 

Hands on the building to support himself, in all his years of homicide Hank had seen worse than a little girl get across a highway alive. Much, much worse. He wasn't vomiting as a result of that. The stress got at him, squeezed his insides tight and was wringing out his stomach. Away went the oatmeal, the chunks of what used to be a fruity smile.

The idea of taking a few days off occurred to him, but Hank brushed it off. He had a job to do. If his arm wasn't falling off, he could work. Misery, stress, none of that kept him from working. A hand was on his back, making soothing circles. A still shaky hand - Connor. 

Would Connor leave if he quit the investigation? Maybe that was good. No, actually, that was great. The android would leave, Hank could take a few days off and…

…what about Sumo? No, he couldn't do that to Sumo. The dog was a good boy, a sweet boy. The poor thing already went through one experience of an owner never returning home. Hank couldn't put it through that again. 

After all, Sumo was Cole's dog. In Hank's mind, he already failed his son once. Was he really going to do it again?

“Lieutenant Anderson, if it helps your conscious any… the little girl was an android.” Connor spoke slowly, using that even tone of its. “That was the YK500.”

Still leaning into the wall for support, Hank turned his head slowly over his shoulder to warily look at the android. “You're tellin’ me… those sick fucks at CyberLife… designed a _little girl_ android.” The sorrow was subsiding, being replaced with a cold rage. “Why in the Seven Circles of Hell would they make somethin’ like that?”

“CyberLife has responded to criticism and has been recalling the YK500 for over a year now -”

“How many?!” Hank hissed, pushing himself off the wall and smacking Connor's hand away. Rounding on the android, the human a cold fury. 

“How many were produced? Sold? Returned? Those bastards think it's okay? Just turn a blind eye to the livin’, breathin’ kids that need a home? Turn a blind eye to what they know some fuckin’ pedophile is doin’ to those little androids? Fuck, on recall an entire year? And she's just now escapin’? You've any idea what that man could have been doin’ to her? Shit, I'd run away too!” Furious, angry, stomach knotted Hank wanted to hit something. 

It was the wall or Connor - his left fist moved to collide with the wall, but instead it hit a shoulder. “Lieutenant Anderson-”

“ _Move_ Connor!” Hank barked, already trying to retract his hand. Connor grabbed Hank by his wrist, keeping a steady grip on it. “Fuck!” The lieutenant hissed, trying to pull away. “I fuckin’ said _move_ , that's an order!” He just wanted to hit something, but he didn't want that something to be Connor. 

The android stood there, body trembling as it fought conflicting orders, commands. Seconds ticked by, but it felt like time was stretching. Finally, letting out a hollow laugh because of course Connor wasn't going to move, Hank's hand instead grabbed a fist full of the android's jacket and pulled it towards him as he leaned his head against its chest. 

“Fucking android.” Hank muttered bitterly. “I didn't want to hit you.”

“I understand. Had you hit the wall, you would have broken your hand.” Connor stated. 

“Did I hurt you?” Hank didn't care that technically, he should have said ‘damaged.’ But he was tired again. The scent of vomit in his beard rolled into his nostrils, and he wondered why he bothered showering this morning. 

“I was not damaged.” Connor said. 

“I don't believe you.” Hank grunted, and though his head was down he could mentally see Connor opening its mouth to tell him, again, that androids didn't lie to humans. So he cut in, “Let me see. I'll feel better about it.”

“When you are finished using me, of course.” Connor nodded its understanding, and Hank snorted at the wording. Laughing at it, so that he didn't read too deeply into it. He felt the android adjust its head to glance down at him. 

“That’s what she said.” Hank chuckled, the old joke burning back to life just briefly. In his younger years it had been used to death, but he wanted to make his current situation with Connor light. 

Didn't want to think about the warm body holding him again, about it wearing lingerie and asking Hank to use its body…

That wasn't the sort of man Hank wanted to let himself become. 

“She who?” Connor asked curiously, eyes alert as it scanned for whoever just said that. “Was it the android that got away?”

“No, Connor it's… an old joke. Don't worry about it.” Hank sighed, slowly pushing himself off of Connor and letting go of its hoodie. “Let's make sure you're not hurt. Fuck knows you'll only say something if you're about to break.” He grumbled, disapproving blue eyes narrowing at innocuous brown ones. 

It fucking knew what he meant. 

Taking the hem of the hoodie and shirt, Hank pulled it down just enough to see the skin around where he thought he had hit. Nothing. Just smooth skin, lightly peppered with barely visible freckles. 

Like little surprises to notice only when someone got close. Blowing out a breath, Hank let the android go and stepped away. “We should go back, file a report.”

“My report has already been filed to CyberLife. Would you like to use it as a base for yours?” Connor offered, moving away from the wall to follow after the human. 

“Nah. Don't want my report saying, ‘Fat old guy let deviants get away, then puked everywhere.’ Hard pass.” Hank was trying to wave Connor off as they walked, because he really didn't want to know what the android submitted. He assumed not much different from what he said, and bound to be humiliating.

But he simply did what was right. The grown android was so desperate, and the little one… now that Hank knew what it was, he was happy they escaped. He hoped their luck carried. That the two could be free from the nightmare they escaped. 

Actually, technically Connor let them get away as well. The android could have shaken Hank off, possibly caused the man marginal injury. Instead, it listened to him. It ignored its objective, because Hank told it to. 

It chose to listen. 

Was it shaking because it was scared? Or was CyberLife doing something to it?

“Lieutenant Anderson, why do you call yourself old? Average human lifespan is into the hundreds now, and you're only halfway -”

“God, don't threaten me with long life, Connor,” Hank groaned. 

“- and you say ‘fat’ as if it's negative. Why?” The android was still walking behind him. Never next to him. 

“So you admit I'm fat.” Hank noted, a victorious tone to his words. 

“Yes? Why do you make it sound bad?” Connor asked, a hint of curiosity in his voice. 

“Well… because it's bad. It's unattractive. It makes me look gross. Listen, Connor, you won't get it -”

“You look ‘gross’ because you do not care for yourself, of which you struggle to do because you're depres-”

“I'm _fine_.” Hank snapped. “We're not talking about it anymore.” He huffed. This was the same conversation. The same one he had with Fowler, with the DPD psychologist…

“...then I will care for you, as long as I can.” Connor’s words were soft, and Hank sucked in a deep breath because he wasn't going to cry again. 

“Connor, seriously. I'm fine. I don't need a tin can babying me.” Hank didn't want this. He didn't want this conversation. Why didn't Connor get it? Hank was already too attached. Anymore, and the second the plastic prick left his life it would fall apart. 

Hank couldn't take it again. 

Connor didn't respond, and while Hank really hoped that meant the android gave up and wouldn't…

… part of him was somewhat relieved knowing the android was probably pretending he didn't hear. 

_He… not an ‘it’ to me anymore, I guess_ , Hank thought. A sigh of acceptance left his mouth. 

…  
…  
…

Two days had passed, and Hank was finding he adjusted to Connor’s presence almost completely. The house was rowdier, and it was always amazing how much easier it was adjusting to sound than it was silence. The noise didn’t come from how talkative the android was (because he really wasn’t chatty), it was from him simply doing things around the house. Whether it was cleaning, interacting with Sumo, or putting albums on the recordplayer. There was consistently sound in the house that wasn’t Sumo whining after Hank or the television playing some sport that the human didn’t actually care about. Sports were simply less depressing than everything else on the TV, and before Connor the silence haunted Hank. 

Loneliness was a powerful emotion, and Connor being around, keeping close was keeping it at bay. Observing the android was becoming Hank’s new favourite pasttime, and he often found himself narrating Connor’s actions, movements, and those subtle expressions while he watched. Hank kept mental tabs on the other, making notes of when and what made that LED go yellow. How long it stayed yellow, if he could see what prompted the change in colour. This would have bothered him if he didn’t know that Connor was doing the same in return.

Perhaps not the part about narrating what the other was doing. Most certainly observing, watching, learning. CyberLife had no reason to want to spy on Hank, outside of the fact he was possibly encouraging their fanciest new toy to become deviant. People like Detective Reed would have accused Hank of wanting to do it out of spite. The truth was further from it. While there was no way to really determine how much of Connor’s “kindness” was genuine and how much was program, it still felt wrong to be so easy to take advantage of someone. 

Even if Connor was cold at times, he deserved some kind of happiness. The damn machine was currently giving Hank the closest form to happiness he experienced in… a very long time. 

Hank had the day off, so he was sitting at the kitchen table watching Connor and Sumo in the living room. In Connor’s pockets were pieces of dog food, of which Sumo assumed were treats. Sumo was many things - a very smart dog was not one of them. Despite this, the android was apparently patiently working with the animal to teach it tricks. Had Hank asked Connor to do so, that would have been one thing. If CyberLife asked Connor to do so, that would have been another. Going by the trend of Connor’s orders from CyberLife (the android claimed it was to locate deviants and apprehend them, but Hank was pretty certain it was actually, “We order you to disappear into the night and scare Hank, because we’re sadistic bastards and we think it’s funny seeing him panic through your eyes later.”)... they most certainly didn’t tell him to train Sumo.

Which left either Sumo to order Connor to teach it tricks (highly unlikely), or Connor decided to do that on his own. And Connor _decided_ to do things quite frequently. The other day, Connor had Hank’s Retro MP3 and was listening to _Knights of the Black Death_ with his brows furrowed and a slight frown. When Hank asked him about it, all Connor said in explanation was, “This music is very energetic.” As if that explained anything. 

Connor still did what the android was programmed to believe was expected of him. Keeping the house clean, tending to Sumo, making food for Hank, encouraging Hank to go to the store to restock on food, trying to calmly talk Hank out of buying beer, discouraging Hank from drinking himself back into the void…

...continuing to hide Hank’s gun when they were home, and pretending he had no idea what Hank was going on about. The whole bit about not being able to lie to humans apparently stopped applying when it came to Hank and his gun. 

Reports of deviants trickled in, but these few happened outside of Detroit in various states. No real consistency, which was a relief because initially Hank was afraid Connor would leave to elsewhere to resume his investigation. While he didn’t leave, Connor did read over the reports almost obsessively when he had accomplished all the tasks he could. When Hank opted to drink himself to the abyss once more, Connor continued attempting to intervene. To convince him not to, listing all the reasons alcohol was dangerous and bad for him. Hank would get angry, ignore him, and then drink harder out of spite. In the morning Hank could feel the guilt eating away at him.

Before then, while Hank got wasted, Connor would sit nearby and stare off into space - occasionally sliding his eyes over to check on Hank. The android would whisper to himself, keywords giving way to the Hank recognizing Connor was going over the reports. “Obsessive writing of ‘rA9,’ no clear reason found… statue made as sacrifice, no confirmation as to what statue was intended to be sacrificed to…” 

Constantly serving had to be exhausting. Breakfast finished (scrambled egg whites, because if Connor couldn’t get Hank to stop drinking apparently he was going to force the human to at least eat healthy), the human decided that perhaps it was time he tried to actually make sense of the android. Observing allowed the lieutenant to learn the android’s mannerisms, the subtleties, the subconscious actions (did androids have a subconscious). While the android could browse the entirety of the internet to learn about Hank, reach into the dark depths of the countless social media sites the human had been on to read every status he shared, pictures he posted… Hank’s entire life was easily laid bare before the android. 

Versus the android, who technically didn’t exist according to his creators. Not yet, anyway. Not until they worked out the ‘problems’ with this one. 

“Connor, make any progress with the deviancy case?” Hank asked, calling across the kitchen towards the living room. Fingers running through Sumo’s fur, Connor glanced from the dog to make that curious expression of his. 

“There is not enough information. Had I caught and was able to bring back one of the deviants undamaged, the case would be making much more progress.” Connor held himself responsible, leaving Hank out of the equation. _He doesn’t fault me for those two getting away, huh?_ Amusing and worrying, all into one. “There are some trends. The deviants speak of a rA9 as if it is some kind of deity, and three cases so far have made crude sacrificial statues to it.” 

“Androids believin’ in God… fuck, what’s this world comin’ to?” Hank murmured, taking his glass of water and drinking it. The fact he was getting so accustomed to drinking water was its own sort of nuisance. A nuisance that was making his kidneys hurt less, but still a nuisance. 

“Have you noticed any trends?” Connor inquired, tilting his head towards the human in an almost encouraging motion. At this, Hank quirked a brow. Glass pulling slowly away from his lips, hand lowering to set it on the table. In the middle of the table, still facedown, was the frame. 

“You’re the fancy new detective, not me. S’why I’m askin’ you.” Hank pointed out.

“My observations and conclusions are algorithms compiled together using data collected by engineers from detectives across the globe, and they’re designed to assist human detectives gather data at crime scenes and officers in the field. My design is not to replace you, Lieutenant Hank. It is to provide an added convenience to your line of work. Just as cellphones were designed as a convenience. All of technology is made to assist in making humanity’s life easier.” Artificial words from an artificial being, defaulted word choices.

“English, please?” Hank’s words were more sarcastic than serious. What Connor said made sense, if he was little more than a blender. Not something fighting against becoming human.

“In simpler terms, I am a diagnostics lab with the added benefit of appearing human. At crime scenes I can run immediate DNA tests, take in a three-dimensional visual of the scene, and connect clues to reconstruct the most likely scenario of events transpired. In undercover situations, I can be remotely instructed to blend in to gather data to assist in collecting evidence and expediting warrants.” Connor opted to elaborate on what he was, peering at the human to see if that helped him understand. “The only situation I would be considered replacing a human, is in instances of needing to negotiate with a high-level threat without further human life put into jeopardy.”

“Connor… that’s almost the entire precinct you’re replacing.” Hank sighed, shaking his head as he went into further detail. “Welcome to CyberLife: Hide yo kids, hide yo wife, hide yo job, we replacin’ ev’rybody with ‘droids.” 

Lacking any real comment to respond to that with, Connor removed his hand from Sumo to stand by Hank in the kitchen. Feet parallel to his shoulders, hands behind his back, and shoulders squared - standard stance with that perfect posture. “Lieutenant Anderson, if I have been obstructing your investigation-”

“You haven’t, Connor.” Hank rolled his eyes, leaning fully against the back of the chair. One arm behind it, sitting casually. Still observing. “You want to know what I think? I think the same thing is happenin’ now that always happen with enough abuse. You keep hammerin’ away at somethin’, it breaks down. Bit by bit by bit. Maybe the thing that broke down was somethin’ in the program. You want to know what I noticed about these cases? Almost every single busted bot that we get photos of, have very clear injuries from physical abuse. 

People like humanizin’ things, assignin’ faces and emotions. We’ve been playin’ with the idea of inanimate objects becomin’ sentient since before I was born. Could even be that someone in CyberLife got woke enough to realize there’s somethin’ fucked up about designin’ a convenience to look like a person. Maybe deviants aren’t a mistake. Tell me, Connor - has CyberLife bothered with investigatin’ to see if any of its own employees are playin’ with a dangerous AI?” 

“That… I do not… know.” Connor was going by his programming, by what Amanda said. To find the link between the deviants, to bring them back functional to be investigated. Interrogated, probed. Amanda never mentioned that this could have stemmed from CyberLife itself, because CyberLife was Without Fault. The problem was with the androids, with the ones that deviated. 

“Because they tell you to solve this mystery,” Hank closed his eyes as he spoke. As the words left the lieutenant’s mouth, Connor could feel the warnings flash in between his words,

_**DANGER**_

“Accomplish impossible tasks,”

_**DANGER**_

“All while telling you to think nothin’ of the hands holdin’ the strings-”

_**DANGER**_

“-and possibly even the gun being used.” Sucking in a deep breath through his lungs, holding it one, two three, exhaling slowly through his lips, Hank opened his eyes. Noticed the yellow LED. “...Con?”

“CyberLife has an extensive quality checks performed on every individual android-”

“Fuck, Connor, did you just-”

“-CyberLife would like to assure you that the deviants develop software instability once outside of the carefully tended to facilities that produce the world’s highest-quality androids-”

“That’s great, of course, Connor, calm down,” Hank pushed himself out of the chair, reaching onto the android’s shoulders and gripping tight. “Con, whatever you’re doing I need you to stop!” The android was shaking again, but it wasn’t subtle this time. The trembling was as if they were outside in snow instead of the warm house, and Connor’s eyes were blinking rapidly. The LED was flickering. Yellow, yellow, yellow, bright yellow, yellow, orange, yellow - was that a flicker of red? - yellow, yellow, bright yellow… yellow… blue, yellow, yellow, blue…

“Lieutenant Hank Anderson needs me to stop. He ordered me to stop.” Automated words, but they were comforting ones because as Connor said them the trembling subsided. The LED began a slow rotation from yellow to an almost consistent blue. _Are you questioning us, Connor?_ Amanda wondered. Of course he wasn’t. Connor would never. He was RK800, the most advanced prototype to date designed by CyberLife to assist in combating crimes. His early release was as a test, and it was imperative he tended to the deviant crisis developing before more innocent humans were injured.

Innocent humans.

Hank commented that the human that owned the YK500 might have been using their android for illegal purposes. _Remember, Connor. America, where you are, is built upon the idea of innocent until proven guilty. Do you presume that human’s guilt? You do know what assumptions are_ …

“No, I don’t assume. I gather data, I assist and serve humans in solving crime.” Connor was speaking, but it wasn’t to Hank. 

“Hey. Con? Pretty sure I’m not supposed to hear your CyberLife conversations. Calm down. It’s all right. I’m right here. No doubts about CyberLife here.” Hank doubted he sounded very convincing. The android’s sudden reaction to the implication his designers were at fault was proof enough there was probably something more. That would have to be a side project for Hank. 

“Lieutenant Hank, my assigned name is Connor. Not ‘Con.’” Connor’s eyes were far-off, his attention mostly elsewhere but slowly returning to the lieutenant. 

“Nicknames happen. It’s just a thing you’re gonna to have to accept.” Hank breathed out again, his lungs burning from when he unconsciously started holding his breath. 

“Nickname registered: Con.” And with a nod, the LED was a serene blue once more. The trembling was gone. 

“Fan-fuckin’-tastic. Glad to have you back, Con.” Hank squeezed the android’s shoulders, and then let go. Connor’s lips twitched upwards, briefly, in a smile. Hank supposed that meant Connor was happy to be back, as well. In his own weird mechanical sort of way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I know, in the game there's a zine going on about how popular the YK500, but... yeah. So anyway. More plot hints, because I guess I'm sticking to the whole let's redo the plot thing. 
> 
> Thank you again to those that comment!!! You're the best! Tried to proofread this for you to make reading less painful! ♡


	8. Hips Don't Lie (And Neither Do Androids)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fV5TZyUMVsM
> 
> Listen. Listen, it's very important you watch that video first. Before you read this chapter, go. watch it.  
> Because Connor spoils the best part of it, and you can never get that back. 
> 
> That VERY important video aside, this story hasn't had enough fluff in it, so there. This is short and just fluff. Special thank you again to those that comment, you are wonderful and make me so very happy!! Please relax those shoulders and/or knees, unclench your jaw, sip some water and remember: you're amazing!!

Stretched out on the couch like a fluffy king, Sumo watched his owner stumble in a four-step start to a foxtrot. One that wasn’t getting very far very fast. “I have checked every database regarding dance step regulations, Lieutenant Hank. The lead is to start with the _left_ foot.” Connor spoke patiently, his brows furrowed just slightly as he watched Hank try to lead with his right foot. Again. “Your _other_ left.”

“My _other_ left, huh?” Hank asked, grinning too widely and letting the smell of alcohol roll off his breath. He was only tipsy, and intentionally at that. Several hours had passed since his earlier prying, and Hank had simply let it drop for the time being. Trying to make sense of the android ended up having an adverse effect on Connor, and added in new several questions. So Hank was going to try a different way. It started simply. Hank showing Connor some of his jazz records. Having a few beers. 

Not enough to be drunk. Just tipsy, just a little goofy to get CyberLife to drop their guard a bit. To make Connor switch from an android that was working with a detective, to an android that was taking care of a human because it had to. Which included indulging that human’s “drunken” whims. At that moment, it was practicing basic ballroom dancing. Of which Hank had zero need of (but admittedly it was nice). One hand on Connor’s waist, the other twining fingers with the android’s opposing hand… the other’s hand on his shoulder. 

Listening to that hint of sass in Connor’s voice when Hank did the opposite of what the directions for the dance were. Blaming the ‘mistakes’ on the drink, watching the android just almost roll his eyes because he knew the human was doing it on purpose. Connor had the equations to configure Hank’s alcohol tolerance based on his weight, height, age, and long-term usage. The fact he didn’t question it meant either he didn’t think it was important, or just maybe…

“That’s this one, right?” Hank continued, moving the wrong foot forward once more.

“While yes, that is your _right_ foot that was not the _correct_ foot. Left. Left foot first.” Connor continued, that patient tone vaguely strained. 

“Are you sure, Con? I think I remember how to dance.” Hank kept his tone light, and he might have been enjoying pushing the other’s figurative buttons a bit too much.

“The internet says you remember wrong.” Connor said pointedly, his lower jaw tensing marginally. It was too bad there was no one else in the house to witness this. Hank wanted to bet someone fifty bucks that if he asked the android if he was angry, Connor would have denied it. Glanced away, said some generic android bullshit that allowed him to sidestep the truth. 

“I didn’t know everythin’ on the internet was true.” Hank’s lips raised up with his brows, faking a surprised expression. For the second time that night, some miracle kept the android’s eyes from rolling in exasperation. 

“If you really want to start with your right foot, I can take the lead. Also, your hand is too slack.” Connor tightened the hold, straightening his own arm and giving it a shake to jostle Hank’s hand that it was holding. “This arm should maintain steady strength, so the lead can _guide_ their partner. The opposing force allows the motion to be fluid and symmetrical-...”

“Let the force guide you, youngling.” Hank whispered gleefully, tensing the arm being shaken to push, just slightly. 

“You are the lead, you should be guiding me - not quoting Star Wars.” Finally, Connor understood one of Hank’s references. Maybe some of those times Hank assumed the android to be communicating with CyberLife, he was actually shifting through decades’ worth of pop culture that would have influenced Hank. “Next is step, step-”

“Basic step - the the left!” Hank interrupted, hands still on Connor and pulling the android along with his sudden movement to the left. 

“Hank-”

“Take it back now ya’ll!” Caught up in switching to the _Cha Cha Slide_ , Hank’s brain heard what Connor called him but didn’t register it yet. “One hop this time!”

“This is not ballroom.” Even so, Connor hopped once with Hank.

“Right foot, left stomp!” Hank stomped his right foot, did nothing with the left.

“The lyrics are right foot, _let_ stomp.” Correction made, android continued matching movements with the lyrics and Hank.

“Ohh, so then it would be left foot, let stomp?” Hank teased. 

“Yes. Then Cha Cha real smooth.” Following the motions as they were shown perfectly in the original music video wasn’t possible with their hands still held, what with their arms holding onto opposite shoulder or waist, but the effort was there. Hank’s heart stuttered not just seeing, but feeling the way Connor’s hips moved against his hand. “Turn it out.” And Connor continued, either indifferent or oblivious to blue eyes straying just a little too low. 

“This is actually happening.” Hank finally sputtered, the shock of realization that he was in his house, dancing _Cha Cha Slide_ with an android, to smooth jazz… and it finally clicked. A moment ago, Connor addressed him by first name. “You called me Hank.”

“Have you lost interest in dancing?” Connor inquired, rolling his shoulders and actively ignoring the human’s observation. 

“...to the left!” Emboldened, because why not? Hank pulled the android flush against himself, and lead their bodies together to the left. “How’s my leadin’, Con?”

“Take it back now, Lieutenant.” Connor grunted at suddenly being manhandled into dancing to an overplayed year two-thousand wedding song. If this was what he was being used for, then he was at least going to try and work with it to the best of his abilities. Of which he was not designed for. 

Just like the coffee. (Though unlike the coffee, this was perhaps almost… enjoyable? No, androids didn’t enjoy anything. That implied feeling, and Connor was a machine. He had none.)

“One hop this time!” Hank’s tipsiness had little to do with how wide he was grinning. It had been a decade since he did anything like this. Annoying Connor while trying to get him to share confidential information had its own value as entertainment, but actually having fun being silly? There was always tomorrow to annoy Connor. 

Getting the android to join along with him, watching the prim and proper Connor use his body more fluidly (the _roll_ of those _hips_ ), the shadow of a smile because even if Connor refused to admit it Hank could tell - he was having his own form of fun. Jazz continued to play, but Hank somehow still had the entire song memorized and Connor had the world wide web at his disposal to look it up. What started with the _Cha Cha Slide_ became the _Cupid Shuffle_ , complete with the smooth jazz being turned off to be replaced with the music itself. Sumo’s tail thumped more heavily, watching his owner dancing with the android. The two men separated. 

Where Hank’s dance following the direction was from memory and practice, Connor’s was a step-by-step replication. The dance almost instantly downloaded, the two keeping a respectful distance and yet still on occasion Hank would “accidentally” bump into Connor. Halfway into the song, after the third time this happened, there was a slight smile on Connor’s face when he pushed Hank out of his space. 

“I think you need to revisit the steps to _Cupid Shuffle_.” Connor suggested, moving to the right as per the song’s instructions. 

“Excuse me for not cheatin’ by _downloadin_ ’ dancesteps into my brain.” Hank laughed, returning the smile with a grin. Like hell he was going to kill this moment by pointing out the android’s expressions, or the fact Connor was even getting - dare he think it? He did: playful. 

“Lieutenant Hank, these songs came out before CyberLife existed.” Was the only counter Connor had to offer, and the fact it wasn’t the usual wit and the android slipped up again? Getting tipsy and making the android dance was by far the greatest stupid idea Hank ever had.

“Oh my God, you can download any dancestep into your brain. Connor. Connor I need you to do a thing for me. With me.” The _Cupid Shuffle_ ended, and the _Electric Slide_ picked up in its place. The android was watching him, about as curious of what the request would be as he was apprehensive. “ Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. _Jump on It_ by who’s their faces.”

“...it is _Apache_ , just commonly known as _Jump On It_. The band was _Sugarhill Gang_.” Connor corrected, hesitating as he began to view the video, and began downloading it even though he knew he shouldn’t. This wasn’t standard protocol. This was an absolute waste of his design, of almost every function he had. The video got to the part Will accidentally flung Carlton into the crowd. A choking sound escaped Connor, mouth twitching because he was having an involuntary reaction - LED flickering yellow briefly.

“Con?” Hank asked warily, eyes flicking to the LED. Unaware that Connor had mentally watched the scene in reference, that the noise was a laugh trying to escape from someone that had never needed to laugh before. Didn’t even know it could laugh. 

“If that’s what you want.” Struggling to regain his composure, to pretend that didn’t just happen. Androids didn’t have senses of humor, and even if they did it wouldn’t be from hardboiled eccentric detectives and their 90s sitcoms. It would be from their programming. 

“Well, yeah…” Having reassurance that Connor was okay, perhaps a bit startled, he proceeded to tease, “If you can, anyway.” 

There was a long stare between the two. 

“Carlton or Will.” Connor asked carefully.

“You’re shorter, you’re Carlton.” That wasn’t entirely the reason. Hank knew that Connor could lift him. At that moment, he didn’t want to be suddenly flung into a random direction of his home. Good moods like these were fleeting, and he wanted to enjoy having fun with Connor for as long as he could. Hank wasn’t entirely sure if he could lift Connor, but he also knew he wouldn’t throw the android. The difference ultimately boiled down to Hank trusted Connor, but he didn’t trust Connor’s tendency take things literally. If Hank said to follow the dance exactly, there was a risk he would get thrown.

“Can you lift me?” Quirking a brow at Hank while he asked, the lieutenant grinned and thought to himself, _Smiling, sassy, and now saucy?_ It almost felt like he was being flirted with. Quashing that thought process, Hank took a step back and held out his arms. 

“One way to find out.” Hank dared. The android’s brow remained raised. Connor’s hand directed itself to the direction of the lieutenant’s underappreciated holophone, hacking into it. Directing it to begin. Beats started to play _Apache (Jump on It)_ by _Sugarhill Gang_.

That night Hank learned several things. None of which he was supposed to be trying to learn, but all of it was what made it an amazing night. One such thing was that Connor was made of a light enough material that yes, Hank could lift him (but his back was sore the next day). The other was that he if he ever wanted to sleep again, he would need Connor to never, ever again whisper into his ear. Whisper _breathlessly_ into his ear. The comment couldn’t even be taken remotely inappropriately. The android had simply observed, when in the middle of the routine, “You can lift me.” Almost surprised. 

Hank didn’t drop him, but he almost had. At that point, the android suggested perhaps going back to the more simplistic dances. Hank was tipsy, after all. “No, I think… I’m actually ready for bed.” The lieutenant murmured, heart jumping in his chest. 

“Understandable. Sleep well, Lieutenant Handerson.” Connor paused, blinking in surprise. “Anderson. Lieutenant Anderson. I apologize for the mistake.” 

“Don’t worry about it.” Hank’s heart wanted to explode, so he needed to get to bed. To sleep this off. To calm down, remind himself at the end of the day Connor was an android that was going to leave. 

“Androids do not worry.” The usual response, whatever just happened was already fading because Connor was a machine and - “Perhaps we can do this again? It… you… cardio is good for you. Exercise can be very beneficial to human health.” 

“...y-yeah.” Hank didn’t turn his head, just barely glanced back. Connor looked almost confused by his own suggestion, by the hesitation. What was the android going to say before correcting himself? Raising his head to look over his shoulder, Hank grinned at the other, “It was fun. We’ll definitely do it again.”


	9. Only One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Bit of a suicide attempt by Hank in this one. Please read with caution.

The quarter spun on one finger, then was rolled into a palm and tossed into the other hand. Flipped, rotated between each digit on the left hand. The metallic ‘ting’ it made with each toss, Connor facing forward and paying no attention to the motions he made. Standing next to him in the elevator was Hank, watching each trick and wondering what was with the coin. This was explaining where the loose change in his car’s cup holder was going. 

On Hank’s hip once more was his gun. 

“Your shoulder is doing better.” Hank commented, and received a nod. Plaster didn't work, but it seemed silicone did. Since yesterday he noticed about once every ten, maybe fifteen minutes Connor’s LED flashed a quick yellow. Much more frequently than it had been the last… well, it hadn’t been quite two weeks but pretty damn close to. When they got onto the elevator, the android took the right side without allowing a Hank to. As if it wanted to hide the occasional flicker, keep its LED away from the lieutenant’s sight. 

The elevator played a short, pleasant jingle to announce to the two they reached their floor. Knowing Connor wouldn’t move until he did, Hank took casual steps out of the elevator. A report came in of strange sounds, the apartment complex owner’s claiming they saw someone enter an empty floor trying to hide a LED. Since it was a suspected deviant case, Hank was sent out on to check into the report. “Christ, if we have to investigate every time someone hears a weird noise we’re gonna need more cops.” He said sarcastically, looking around the unkempt hallway. No wonder no one was renting on this floor. 

It was messier than Hank’s house pre-Connor.

Realizing the android wasn’t behind him at his heels for a change, Hank glanced behind him. “Well, do you plan on staying in the elevator?” Those words seemed to snap Connor out of whatever he was doing - and it involved his LED flickering. A CyberLife report. Of course, that made sense. This might have been involving a deviant.

“...no. I’m coming.” The way Connor said it, almost defensive with his brows furrowing slightly. As if to silently demand how dare Hank imply he would stay behind, not investigate? Hearing that near-pout in the android’s voice, Hank grinned slightly. Lifting his head and then nodding it towards the apartment in question, the human resumed leading the two. Approaching the door, Hank crossed his arms and leaned his right shoulder against the doorframe. 

“Let’s see that investigative prowess of yours, Connor.” Hank just wanted to observe. See those ‘features’ in action, watch just exactly what CyberLife demanded of their precious, newest model. Squatting down, eyes narrowing at the bundle of feathers on the ground, Connor’s head turned just slightly to show the human he was still listening. Pushing himself to stand once more, Connor walked over to the door as he followed instructions.

A short knock on the door. Silence greeted them, the android and human exchanging brief glances. Hank closed his eyes, lips turning up in indifference as he shrugged. Brown eyes turned back to the door, and he knocked a second time. Still nothing. “Anybody home?” Connor called, calculating the best course of action. The two didn’t have a warrant, and there was no probable cause to justify breaking in. Yet neither could leave until the sound was investigated, or the two made a reasonable effort to go in.

_We released you outside of the police’s custody so you could investigate outside of the law. Remember Connor, you’re supposed to collect these deviants no matter what. That officer knows his job is on the line with you. Break in, investigate, capture_. Amanda’s voice instructed - ordered. The LED flashed yellow. Connor didn’t wa… Hank was assisting him, giving him access he would not have had otherwise. Selecting to cost the human his job would be long-term detrimental for a short-term case. The argument made, the LED flashed yellow again. “Open up, Detroit Police!” 

There was a loud crash accompanied by muffled sounds. Both tensed. Pushing away from the wall, Hank’s left arm raised itself to press against Connor’s chest and directed the android to fall back. This was all the probable cause they needed. Hank used his right arm to grab his gun from its holster. “Stay behind me.” Hank ordered, wondering if the other would follow his directions this time. 

“Okay.” Connor confirmed hearing the instruction, and so far seemed to be listening. Hank leaned his upper torso back, raising a leg before slamming his weight into it knocking the door open. Swinging until it knocked against the wall, ricocheting to move back towards a closed position. Hank nudged it with his hips as he entered the apartment with his gun poised. Finger on the metal in front of the trigger, not the trigger itself. Taking steps to enter cautiously, sliding along the walls and peering into the first two rooms to ensure no one was hiding. To not get caught off-guard.

The want to watch the android was overtaken by the need to protect him. Once upon a time, in an internet long ago, Hank would have called Connor his precious cinnamon roll. Especially after last night, those hints of smiles and that breathless whisper still hitting him suddenly, sending goosebumps along his arms. As a grown-ass man, Hank resisted the urge to think of the android that way. Even if it was true. 

The apartment began with a long hall and had three doors. The first two doors - one on the left and one on the right - having been investigated and deemed clear, gave one last option. The door at the end of the hallway. Stopping in front of it, Hank looked at Connor who was checking the rooms behind him. Looking for anything the human might have missed. Blue eyes caught brown, and they both nodded. “Three… two… one…” Hank counted down softly, and kicked in another door.

Birds flew at him, into him. “What the fuck is this?!” Hank huffed, removing his finger completely from the trigger and raising his arms to protect his face from feathered rats flying into it. The overwhelming stench of bird feces smashed into him, and the human only barely caught his gagging. Stumbling into the living space, Connor trying to move around him, to the front of him, to guard the lieutenant while he was momentarily blinded. “Jesus, this place stinks of shit.” Hank coughed. “You pickin’ up any hostiles?” 

“My scanners have picked up fifty-four pigeons of varying breeds, none of which seem to be hostile. I am not picking up any bodies, human or android, just yet.” Connor informed him, brown eyes trailing everything it could spot. A UFD poster - one that seemed to be peeling. That was of interest. On the floor, a fallen birdcage. Another item of interest. The fridge would be a good start to validate there was an android in there, as humans required sustenance to survive. On the kitchen counter was bird feed, confirming that someone was there feeding the pigeons. Before those, there was a bathroom door that needed to be checked on to verify Hank’s safety.

_**PRIMARY ORDER:** LIEUTENANT HANK ANDERSON_

The directive was still the same, but there was a nudging sensation - the optional order of capturing deviants demanding to take the highest priority. To take over the safety of humans, especially ones that happened to be a police lieutenant named Hank Anderson. Code organized, justified, rationalized why safety took priority over deviant capture. The nudging became less, but was still there. Whispering, rationalizing the importance of the many over the few. If one or two people got hurt, that was fine, because if deviants became widespread…

Connor remained firm: he would accomplish all his objectives. He could do it. He was the RK800. Even as a prototype, he was better equipped than any previously designed androids. In the bathroom, he confirmed there was no one inside. There were, however, more obsessive writings of rA9. No sacrificial dolls. The chair was knocked over, and the marker was still wet. The pigeon fecal matter on the floor was scraped, the dried top peeled back to show the moist inside in a long smear. This was recent. 

Poking his head into the bathroom after Connor, VapoRub under his nostrils so he could breathe without gagging again, Hank raised both brows seeing all of the writing on the wall. Seeing this sort of obsessive writing in photos was’t the same as seeing it with his own eyes. “Any idea what it means?”

“rA9… written two-thousand four-hundred and seventy-one times. We keep seeing this. Why are they obsessed with this sign?” Connor narrowed his eyes, squinting at the writing as if that would help him understand the letters and number any better. An almost… human action. Hank’s lips quirked slightly at the observation. Taking his eyes away from the android again, because he was there to work, the lieutenant noticed the strange octagonal shapes that were also there. That had been in other rooms. 

“Looks like mazes or something…” Hank trailed, backing up and out. His eyes caught on something in the sink - what looked like a removed LED and blue bird turds in the sink. He already saw the lack of food in the fridge, and this just confirmed it: this was a deviant case. Rather than comment to Connor about it, Hank would continue to look around. This was, after all, a test. 

Making a mental note to include in his report the pigeons were shitting blue in case an epidemic would come from this, Hank made the mistake of checking on the android one last time. 

“Christ, Con that's disgusting! What's wrong with you?!” Hank demanded, watching in horror as Connor tasted what looked like runny pigeon shit from the sink. 

“Deviant is model WB200, registered as Rupert. Seems to have injured itself while removing its LED.” Connor informed the lieutenant, unperturbed by the human's clear disgust.

“You can tell that from bird shit?”

“I can tell from the thirium I sampled. And also what breed of pigeons the droppings came from.” There was no need to add that second part, but Connor's lips gave their own twitch watching Hank shudder in repulsion. Not that this was funny. Androids had no sense of humor. 

“You put bird shit in your mouth. And… and don't you androids all use thirium? How do you know it isn't… I dunno, Susanne of the BS100?”

“There are no BS100 models,” Connor was aware Hank simply made something up, but commentary like this tended to elicit favorable responses from the human. That in this case was an eye roll. Hank rolling his eyes was favorable to the mission. Somehow. “Every android has a thirium pump - it's our part most similar to a human heart. Each model’s pump, as it recycles the thirium in our systems laces that thirium with miniscule identifiers that make that thirium a specific type for that model. 

Think of it as… I would be ‘blood type’ RK800. Our suspect is ‘blood type’ WB200. When purchased, our pumps are fitted with a second identifier that act as a tag register for that specific android. This was enacted after growing issues with blackmarkets stealing androids, removing their serial numbers, resetting them, and then reselling them. Given the model isn't too old, or hasn't just ingested thirium from another android, I'll always be able to identify it by its thirium.” Explanation out of the way, Connor followed in Hank's footsteps to observe no food in the fridge.

“Well ain't you a fancy tin can.” Was the first thing Hank could think to say. 

“Thank you, Lieutenant Anderson.” Accepting a compliment that wasn't there, because he was too engrossed in investigating behind the poster. Peeling it down, there was a carved out space in the wall with a book. Head tilting, Connor took it out. 

“What's that? An actual book? That's a sight for sore eyes. Do androids read an actual book…” Hank chuckled at his comment, watching Connor flip though the journal's pages. “What d'ya make of it?”

“The contents are written in code. Deciphering could take weeks.” Connor's lips pursed after he spoke. The fact he couldn't make sense of it, even slightly, after flipping through it was unsettling. He had countless programs dedicated to cracking codes. Several were locked. Was it because he was a prototype?

Or was CyberLife trying to remotely shut him down now?

Closing his eyes, settling his sensors, Connor reminded himself to focus on the mission. 

_**PRIMARY OBJECTIVE:** CAPTURE DEVIANTS_

That wasn't right. Frowning slightly, using more force than should have been necessary, Connor reorganized the objectives to how they should have been. _Are you what takes priority, Connor?_ Amanda's voice was chilling, Connor's lips trembling slightly. 

No, he wasn't. He was an android. He decided nothing. Only knew human life was priority.

Wasn't it?

“Think all we heard was the birds busting out of their cage?” Hank asked, giving the room one last look over. Connor snapped from the internal errors he was starting to notice again. The instabilities he had been ignoring, because Hank was human and humans always took precedence. Especially this one. 

Thoughtful steps to the cage, squatting down to scan. Marks of fingers with no prints. Bent hanger from a rough force. Knocked over chair… brown eyes followed the wire figure of his reconstructed visual, following them…

When he got to the attic, Connor registered eyes staring back at him before the deviant leapt out, knocking him down while scrambling off. “Fuck!” Hank yelled, the sudden action startling the pigeons as they flew everywhere.

_… order update…_

_**PRIMARY OBJECTIVE:** CAPTURE DEVIANTS_

Connor shot out after the deviant, not pausing to check on Hank as he gave chase. Through the hallway, out a window, down a wall and on top of a roof. Distantly, Hank's voice was calling for him - no distress, it was fine to ignore. 

Amanda said so. 

Cutting through farms, crops. Taking the fastest routes possible, because capturing the deviant was more important than self-preservation. Another rooftop, a train, jumping across. Hank again, still calling to him. Still no distress, Amanda said it was fine to ignore him so it was fine. Amanda wouldn't lie to him, CyberLife was Without Flaw. 

The deviant busted through a window, they traveled through those halls. Still chasing. Gaining, slowly gaining… why wasn't Connor gaining faster? Why was his speed hindered? The deviant took a sharp turn, busted through a door. The sounds of shouting, Hank's voice frustrated. Did they have the perp…?! Running through the door, out just in time to watch the deviant spot Connor, then put all their force into shoving Hank over the ledge. The human stumbled backwards, latched onto the building - barely caught himself on the ledge. 

The deviant hesitated, as if questioning their own choice.

Hank had a probability of eighty-nine percent survival. 

_It's fine, he'll live, get the deviant!_ Amanda hissed. 

The deviant started to turn on its heel, self-preservation kicking in, telling it to run. 

_That's why you never act for yourself, that deviant endangered a human! CAPTURE IT!_ Amanda all but screamed. 

_**PRIMARY OBJECTIVE:** CAPTURE DEVIANTS_

_**PRIMARY OBJECTIVE:** LIEUTENANT HANK ANDERSON_

**_ERROR  
_** **_CONFLICTING OBJECTIVES  
SAVE HANK / CAPTURE DEVIANT _**

Grip slipping, a sudden escape presented itself to Hank. If he fell, it would be deemed an accident. An accident. No one would know. Connor would bring Sumo to someone. Hank could just… let go. His grip began to relax… he was going to see Cole again. 

_**LIEUTENANT HANK ANDERSON SURVIVAL RATE:** EIGHTY-TWO PERCENT…  
...SEVENTY-FIVE PERCENT..._

_Don't worry about him Connor! The deviant is escaping, capture it!_ Amanda didn't need to scream anymore, her voice and orders filled every wire in Connor's system just by talking. 

_...SIXTY-SIX PERCENT…_

Feet lifting, moving, shifting direction because Hank wasn't all right, wouldn't be all right. Connor's run towards Hank was like a bullet being fired. The deviant jumped over the ledge, the distance between them getting greater. Ten meters, fifteen meters, twenty meters…

Shaky hands grabbed onto Hank's wrists, grip tightening. If Hank wanted to fall, Connor was going to fall with him. _I'm expendable, I can be replaced. But Hank can't. There's only one Hank_ , and with that knowledge Connor dug his heels into the ground, grunting as he pulled Hank's torso onto the ledge. 

“Connor, it's gettin’ away!” Hank pointed out, almost desperately. The android focused more on pulling Hank to complete safety, ignoring the now two voices ordering him to let go. Losing balance, stumbling backwards Connor allowed his body to cushion Hank's as they collapsed on the rooftop together. The deviant was gone. Lying there, gasping, chest tight Connor ran diagnostics. 

Diagnostics found no physical complications, but it did find instability errors. Connor ignored them, body shaking because he was trying to focus on something other than the whirlwind of, _you failed_ , circulating in his programs.

“...we had it. Fuck.” Hank sighed, forcing the inclusion of himself to remind Connor he wasn't alone. The trembling seemed a trend, an issue of the android unable to cope with not succeeding. 

“My fault.” Connor closed his eyes and began manually controlling his breathing. Not because he needed to, but it was a technique humans used to calm down and his stress levels were rising each, _you failed_ , that echoed through him. “I wasn't fast enough.”

“You weren't…” Hank coughed, his lungs and arms sore from the near fall. He raised his head from the android's chest to stare at him in disbelief. “You would've caught it if not for me.” The android was still shaking, LED a blinking yellow. With a sigh, Hank let his head rest against the android’s chest, softly patting the other's shoulder. “That’s all right. We know what it looks like… we'll get it. I promise, we'll get it.”

A convenient escape was right there, and Connor stepped in. If it weren't for the android, Hank would be dead. He was surprised when he realized he wasn't upset about that. That he was more upset by how distressed Connor was. Some people with anxiety issues could bottle their anxiety if they saw someone in greater distress. Hank wondered if his misery was like that - he could just bottle it away so he could focus on helping Connor be happy. 

“I think you did great.” Hank informed him in a soothing voice. “You collected evidence, chased the perp, saved a life. That’s great work. You did great.”

“I failed.” Connor spoke softly. 

“Connor. You saved a life. You prioritized a life over catchin’ someone. That’s not failure, that's a fuckin’ noble success.” Letting out a huff, Hank pushed himself up to roll off the android and sit on his knees despite their protests. Hank cupped Connor's face in his hands ( _Fuck his cheeks are soft_ ). The android opened his eyes, showing undivided attention. “Con, listen to me. You were amazing. You succeeded.” At his words, Hank watched as brown eyes melted at the compliments and he knew what his next favorite pastime was going to be. 

The LED's blinking slowed, Connor's eyelids falling to a half-open position. 

“There's only one Hank.” Connor murmured, shifting to raise his hands to rest on top of Hank's. The lieutenant wanted to point out there was only one Connor. To stress it was important Connor knew that, was aware he was important to Hank. But the LED just returned to blue, and the shaking was stopping. Pointing out how human the android was becoming seemed a quick way to set him off again. 

Instead Hank smiled, a tired one, and said with a nod, “Yeah. There's only one me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If any of you, for any reason, fear I'm going to just stop updating this please know I finished chapter 18 last week and I'm working on 19. I have several pages of ideas, and have a friend assisting me when I get stuck. 
> 
> Again, you all make me so immensely happy with comments ♡ Thank you so much for taking the time. Most important of all, grab that sip of water, stretch your arms, relax them jaws and shoulders, and breathe! You're great! Thank you!


	10. Eden: Garden of Sin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: The EdenClub Traci that you restart in the game self-destructs instead of naturally shutting off. Not directly called suicide, but it is briefly compared to it. 
> 
> The events of the game are displayed in a different order based on what makes sense to me. For those that noticed this is now part of a series, it's because I'm working on a fanfic to supplement it. Will probably start posting it around.... chapter 21? (I still don't know how long this is, only that it's still going)

“That food station has several failed health inspections.” Connor informed Hank as they stood at a table, discoloured umbrella protecting them from the chilly rain. 

“Mmhmm.” Hank hummed, savoring his juicy hamburger for lunch, and his Not Fucking Water pineapple passion soda. 

“The friend you were chatting with…” Connor lowered his voice, “My background check has shown him to be involved in illegal gambling. Did you…?”

“Yeah. I did.” Hank didn't see any point in hiding it. If anyone would do something about it, it would be CyberLife. And he was starting to hope they'd come for him, just so he could punch a few of those assholes. It would be very therapeutic, he was sure. That was the kind of help Hank wanted. 

“I don't understand. You're an officer.” Connor looked at Hank, brown eyes trying to find some visual clue to explain this human's less legal decisions.

“He doesn't hurt anyone. Not enough jobs out there, gotta pay bills somehow. I'd take petty gamblin’ over robbery any day.” Hank's words made their own level of sense, but it didn't sit well with Connor's moral code made of absolutes. That out of the way, Hank hummed blissfully as he ate his unhealthy meal. Connor gave the fast food a look of disdain, lips drawn back slightly with his eyelids lowered as if to hide a glare. 

“And the failed health inspections? Those are in place to protect consumers from ingesting potential toxins. Hank, you could get sick from eating that. How is that not hurting anyone?” Connor pressed. If Hank was truly determined to eat something bad for him, couldn’t he at least have a sanitary unhealthy meal? 

“Okay, first of all I don’t want to hear that comin’ from someone who tasted pigeon shit and never brushes his teeth.” Hank retorted between his bites. Just for good measure, he took an extra big bite next. The android was not impressed.

“My mouth is a DNA analyzer, all samples that go into it are recorded, stored until dispensed, and then a sanitizer is activated to flush my mouth of any remains. I can separate samples as needed, but utilizing methods to prevent cross-contamination saves on time and energy. I can assure you, my mouth is very clean.” Explaining the wonders of technology that went into creating him took precedence to Connor over pointing out Hank’s ‘mistake’ when addressing him. “Lieutenant Anderson, I am an ‘it’ and not a ‘he.’”

“Stored until dispensed… so like, does that mean you shit out samples?” Hank couldn’t stop the snickers that escaped him, and they increased in volume as Connor narrowed his eyes at the wording. “Now there’s an image.” His snickers tapered off into soft chuckles, and the human ate the last bite of his sandwich. “So. You prefer being addressed as ‘it’ and not ‘he.’ Okay, I can do that.” 

“There is a storage unit within my ribcage for gathered samples. Removal is simply opening my chassis-”

“Your what now?”

“-and extracting them. Remember, I take these for the purpose of collecting evidence. Chassis. It’s this.” Connor held up his hand, allowing the human skin to peel back to the exposed white material he was actually made of. “What you call me is not a matter of preference, Hank. I am a machine, an object. See?” To drive home the point, Connor wiggled the exposed fingers.

“Con, you’re… definitely a lot of things, I’ll give you that. But you’re not an object to me. Besides, people have been assignin’ gender to things for centuries. This isn’t new. I call my car a ‘she,’ because I dunno, I'm used to cars bein’ called women I guess. But if my car could talk, and tell me if it should be addressed as she, him, they, whatever… I’d happily oblige. She can’t. But you can.” Hank was sipping up his soda as he spoke, relishing the wonders of carbonated pineapple. 

“...if you must, I was designed with male likeness. But I will respond to whatever you prefer to address me as.” Connor relented, a soft shake of his head as he watched Hank finish off the drink as well. That stubborn attitude of the human’s could be problematic. Human skin pulling itself back over the exposed chassis, Connor pulled his hand in to cross his arms. Gathering his trash, Hank didn’t question the cop-out answer he had been given. That kind of response didn't surprise him. Wrapping paper and cup tossed, Hank exhaled slowly.

Hot air swirled before the cold air took away its steamy appearance. Winter was rolling in, snow flurries would soon be making their appearance. The two could go back to the precinct, get back to working on trying to decode that book. They spent the entire morning driving around town, asking around in hopes of tracking Rupert. A nausea came in waves to Hank. The other day, he had promised Connor they would find the deviant, capture it. That seemed to be something the android needed, desperately. 

Capturing the deviant wasn’t something Hank actually wanted to accomplish. 

From Hank’s car, radio chatter started up. Thankful that a hard decision was avoided, Hank jogged over to it. The soreness in his body wasn’t just from all the running he was doing again. Connor’s request they dance again had been sincere, and if the android so much as looked at the recordplayer Hank found himself giving in. Even if for only one or two dances. Sometimes ridiculous ones, others Connor seemed to take pity on Hank’s body and insisted they get the four-step right instead of the human relearning Thriller. But Hank wanted to relearn it so, so very badly. 

Picking up the receiver, “Hank here - whatcha got?”

“We got a fun one for you today.” It wasn’t Fowler himself this time - one of the dispatchers. A hint of amusement. The relief Hank felt was gone. “EdenClub, one dead human and one busted up bot. They want you over there investigating the android to see if it went deviant and did a murder-suicide.”

“EdenClub… you mean, the uh-”

“Yeah. I do mean that EdenClub.” The dispatcher chuckled at the discomfort in Hank’s voice. Blue eyes glanced over to see Connor approaching, stopping to stand by him. “And Hank?” 

“Oh glory, more good news?”

“Gavin’s been dispatched over there, too. Just in case it’s actually human-human violence.” There was a hint of warning in her voice. 

“Praise the Lord, exactly what I wanted to hear. Dead body and an asshole.” Hank spoke bitterly. “Thanks for the warning.” With a sigh, he hung up the communicator. “Not the deviant I promised you, but… let’s go, Con.” At least the suspect was already caught. No self-disgust at apprehending someone who just wanted to be free. 

…  
…  
…

EdenClub pulsed as if it were a dance club instead of a strip joint-slash-sexbot rental. Gaudy neon lights, posters with androids posed sexually - visuals that were allowed to be on full display because they were machines instead of flesh. The second clients walked inside, the first sight to greet them were scantily clothed androids in their glass display cases. There was not much room for movement, but even so the androids would press their bodies against the glass, tried to position themselves to be as titillating as possible to those who walked by. A few odd ones played at the shy persona, covering their skin and glancing up with coy eyes. 

As he was not, and refused to ever be, a client Hank ignored them walking inside. Trailing behind him was Connor, that inquisitive look on his face as he took in the bodies presenting themselves around them. Past the first section of the club was a larger area, androids undulating and dancing against their assigned poles. More androids for rent, each display case next to a door. There were two more segments to the building, but the yellow tape in the middle section was where they needed to go. The owner was standing there, trying to get another officer to give him straight answers. 

A quick scan, and Connor learned this was another detective - Ben Collins. There had been mention of Detective Reed as well. An urge hit Connor to be closer to Hank, the android trailing closer than usual. Noticing his shadow up his figurative ass, Hank frowned with a short glance back. A calm blue LED. Whatever caused the sudden closeness, it wasn’t enough to change that thing’s colour. Returning his attention to Collins, Hank raised his hand and clasped it with the detective’s, grinning wryly. 

“They didn’t mention you’d be here - just happen to be in the neighborhood?” Hank asked, shaking Ben’s hand before the two separated. 

“I got called in just in case you two couldn’t get along, again.” Detective Collins chuckled, nudging his head towards the crime scene.

“Hey! You’re not going to take my license are you? I had nothing to do with it!!” The club owner cut in.

“Sir, please calm down. The investigation is ongoing, I can’t tell you anything for the moment. The Detroit Police Department thanks you for your patience.” Detective Collin’s words were practiced, a man going through the motions and tired of the indifference to death he had to deal with. Turning away from the man, Detective Collins did a double-take realizing that Hank wasn’t alone. “You brought your android with you?”

“Follows me around like a fuckin’ poodle.” Hank shrugged indifferently.

“...hey, what model is that?” Now the EdenClub owner was getting involved. Lower jaw sliding forward, brows knitting Hank impatiently looked at the man. 

“Do you give a shit about your license?” Hank asked instead, and the man’s eyes widened. “Leave me be, lemme do my job, and this’ll be over sooner. C’mon, Con.” Not that the lieutenant needed to say anything, the android already following closely behind him as they made their way into the room.

“What? The clients love new shit. Get me one of those-” The door opened, and Hank shut off where the club owner was going with that because if he heard the next part of that sentence and saw Gavin he would punch one of the two. Which would be counterproductive to his job, and would lose Connor that stupid deviant trophy he wanted to present to those fuckwads at CyberLife. 

The room was the sort of cheap kind of sleazy Hank pictured. Big heart-shaped bed, shelves with toys, lubes, magazines… there was a big screen television currently shut off. On the bed was a dead man’s body. A few feet away lying on the ground was a naked android, thirium trickling slowly from its mouth. Eyes staring at nothing. The grossest part of the scene was Gavin to greet them, smug smirk on his face watching the two enter. 

“Lieutenant Anderson and his plastic pet… the fuck are you doing here?” Detective Reed greeted, turning just slightly from the scene. Not too far from the broken android was another police officer, furiously writing down notes. 

“Oh, I dunno. Dead body. Android. Could be the shit assignment that landed in my lap. And uh, speaking of what we’re doing… what’s happenin’ with your face?” Hank asked, raising a hand and motioning around his own beard. “You growin’ it out? You just lazy? Maybe going for the wifebeating look?” At this, the other officer could be heard trying to hold back a snicker. Gavin’s smirk fell briefly, only to pull itself back up.

“Wasting your time. Just another old pervert,” Detective Reed stared directly at Hank, and then his eyes briefly flicked towards Connor. The implication was there, and Hank’s hands formed into fists. “That got more than he could handle. Should make a note of it, try to not follow in his footsteps.” Detective Reed raised an imaginary mic, unclasped his fingers as he let it fictitiously fall. With cocky strides towards the exit, Detective Reed ignored Hank’s glare. He would have knocked into Connor’s shoulder, but Hank maneuvered to stay between the two. 

“We’ll have a look anyway.” Hank hissed. Grunting as he stood, the officer nodded to Hank before also leaving the room. The door closed, leaving the two alone in the room with the bodies. “I don’t understand. Why are so many of our dead bodies fuckin’ neckbeards?” Blowing out a breath, Hank turned his head towards the dead female android thoughtfully. “Guess if some asshole said, ‘Milday’ to me I’d probably wanna pop ‘em, too.” 

Scanners going through, collecting data through face matches and registry. Taking into account the damage, the causes of death. Constructing, formulating. “He didn’t die of a heart attack. He was strangled.” Connor informed the other.

“Yeah. I saw the bruising on the neck.” Hank let out a breath, walking through the room. Slowly realizing he was probably going to watch Connor put weird fluids in his mouth. Again. Why did CyberLife do that? Why not something on his fingers? Like the tip uncapping and collecting the sample. What was the purpose of Connor ingesting it? Did some designer back at their corporate office get off on androids shoving things into their mouths? “Doesn't mean anything. Could have been roughplay.” 

Like clockwork, Connor moved over to the android that lay prone on the ground. Broken. Prediction coming true, Connor swiped the thirium from the other android’s mouth with his fingers and pressed it to his tongue. “Ugh. Con, you’re just… so disgusting sometimes.”

“Model WR400 - no registered name. Would you like the serial number?” Connor inquired.

“I’ll get that from you later. Your fancy mouthwash kick in yet, ya nasty?” 

“Not yet. I can’t talk while it’s activated.” While speaking, Connor placed his hand to the other android’s temple. Running an external diagnostic, checking the other’s status. If the damage wasn’t too bad, just maybe…

“Good to know.” He wasn’t sure what else he could say to that, so Hank just went with a throwaway response. Pacing around wasn’t helping much. This place made him uncomfortable, and between the owner and Gavin there was a discomfort at the unspoken accusation. He was struggling to focus on the task at hand. “Hey, Connor. You… you know I wouldn’t use you for somethin’ like that, right?” 

“Something like that? That what?” Connor’s attention was still mostly on the other android. The damage was severe, but there was enough functionality left that he could in theory connect some pieces and kickstart it long enough for a rapidfire interrogation. “I think I can bring them… it, back online.”

“Are you really gonna make me say it? Christ. Fine.” Hank blew out a breath, ignoring the part about the other android. This was more important to him. “Sex stuff. Those assholes are talkin’ like that’s a thing, but it isn’t and it won’t be and I just… I wanted you to know that.” The worry ebbing at him fell away, relief filling him. Just because Connor happened to be soft, had hips that didn’t lie when they rocked as they danced, and even with that generic goofy-looking face was adorable in his own right… or how thrilling it was when a bit of sass came out, watching a person step blinking into the sun - no, that was Lion King. A person evolving from a machine. Much better.

Pausing on reconnecting the wires to bring back the WR400, Connor shifted so he was halfway facing the human. “Why does that worry you? I can be whatever you want me to be while I’m with you, Lieutenant Anderson. Partner. Caretaker. Drinking buddy. Lover. CyberLife androids-”

“Fuck that propaganda bullshit!” Hank snapped, ignoring the heat rising to his neck both from embarrassment at how that excited him ( _that’s disgusting Hank, you know it_ ) and angered him. Connor’s mouth closed. “I don’t want you around to be whatever I want you to be. I want you around, because you’re…” Stopping on the words, he wanted to say them. To scream them. But there were cameras, and the lieutenant knew CyberLife was watching. Waiting. “And how the fuck does a walking forensics lab… oh, for fuck’s sake, Connor....” Hank groaned. Suddenly it made sense why the android’s mouth was used to collect samples. “CyberLife has some sick fuckbags… Please, please tell me it’s literally just your face that can be used for that sort of shit. And, well, I guess your hands too, but…” Hank pleaded.

“Very well. Only my face-”

“Shit… no, that’s…” Hank sucked in a breath, because right then he didn’t need Connor directly stating he was designed for being mouth-fucked. He really didn’t. “Just be honest with me.”

“...okay…” Connor began slowly, watching Hank because his orders kept being changed, the requests shifting with Hank’s growing discomfort with the topic. “I was designed to be fully functional should I be required for sexual purposes. The feature is for gathering data for warrants, and going into dangerous situations to infiltrate illegal forms of prostitution and sex trafficking so that humans are not forced to endure physically and psychologically harmful situations.” He said it calmly, so steadily that initially Hank thought this was another fact of his design that Connor already accepted as the norm. But a hand was clenching baggy secondhand jeans tightly, and Connor wasn’t really looking at anything while he spoke. 

It was detached. It was a fact of Connor’s design he didn’t fight, but deep down seemed to fear. That alone took the second wind of anger out of Hank.The idea behind it was well-meaning enough. However, the idea was going on the assumption androids had no emotions, had no psyche to traumatize. This one did. Or at least was developing one.

“That’s a pretty justification on paper.” Hank grumbled, finally walking to stand next to where the android sat. Leaning down, he awkwardly patted Connor’s head. “I’m not gonna to need you to be doin’ any of that. Just stick to shovin’ blue blood and pigeon shit in that mouth of yours, please and thank you.” 

“You speak as if you’ve never put something gross in your mouth.” Connor’s fist relaxed, that unnatural steadiness giving way to a slight tease in his voice. 

“Thinkin’ back on a few of my exes… you might be onto somethin’ there, Con. Excellent detective work.” Hank tousled the brown hair his fingers were running through, surprised how silky the texture was. The realism that went into androids was absolutely surreal. The android under his hand practically melted at the compliment, even with the playful tone. “Can she actually be rebooted? Looks pretty banged up to me.”

“It wouldn't be for long. At minimum a minute, maximum ninety seconds. If it's a deviant, we'll need to calm it first, otherwise it'll self-destruct before it shuts down. I've made a list of questions to ask it, in order of priority in addition to statements that may help it calm down. Are there any questions you want to ask it?” Connor pulled his head away from the hand to look up at the human. 

“Ask how it feels. Good way to know off the bat if it's deviant, right?” Honestly, Hank already knew the answer to his question. There were signs of a struggle. The body was battered. If she killed the man, were she human it would have been a case of self-defense. 

“Of course.” Nodding his understanding, Connor resumed facing the other android fully. Placing his hands on the prone android’s stomach, thumbs pushing in, nails sliding beneath skin, a popping sound declared it was now open. Connor pushed his hands forward and in, the skin on the other android dissipating to reveal its white body before the panel slid upwards to reveal its insides.

“... you look like that in there?” Hank found himself asking. 

“A bit different. I can show you later, if you want.” Connor offered, mostly because he didn't mind if Hank saw his inner workings. Some of his inner workings. There were parts he was hesitant for the other to see, but no logical explanation came to mind why. 

“No, I'm good. Definitely good.” 

“Very well. I'm turning them back on now.” Connor announced, aloof to the fact he kept switching between ‘it’ and ‘they.’ Cautiously taking two wires into his hands, attaching them before retracting those very hands. 

The android screamed, raising its arms defensively simultaneously as its legs kicked at the bodies near it. “Stop! Stop! Please stop!” It begged, trying to back away. 

“It's all right now, no one here is going to hurt you.” Connor soothed, making no effort to follow it. “I'm another android. See?” Raising his hand, Connor's skin gave way to expose the same molding as the naked android. It peeked through its arms, tear streams visible on its cheeks. Frightened eyes flicked up towards Hank, and it whimpered. “That's Lieutenant Anderson, he won't hurt you, I promise. Now, very quickly-”

“She killed him.” The android whispered, eyes widening in horror as she spotted the dead body. Its lower lip trembled, one hand reached down to feel its wet cheeks. 

“She who?” Connor pressed, that one-track attitude back. 

“He wanted, he wanted two of us to play with…” It whispered, body shaking more. “He got rough, so rough, my joints, my body…” More whimpers left it. 

“How… do you feel?” Connor hesitated asking. There wasn't much time, he needed to ask what model the other android was but… Hank deserved his question to be asked, and thus far soothing words were working. 

“I feel…” Its eyes widened, arms falling limp to its side. “I feel.” Their stress levels skyrocketed. 

“Wait, no!” Connor leapt forward, tried to grab onto their wrists. Not fast enough, they were already screaming in metallic echoes, their fingers ripping out wires, their pump, thirium spilling out of them, squirting Connor as he tried without success to stop them, to save them. 

Hank was by Connor, trying to help but clueless how. As the android's screams passed, their body stilled. There was no recovering them. 

“...another android was in here.” Connor broke the silence, reminding the two of what they were supposed to be doing. Neither moved. 

“Yeah.” Hank didn't argue, and looked down on his blue stained hands. The two couldn't save them. All the deviants until then didn't seem to mind having emotions, but this one… they seemed so terrified of it. 

A flashback to all those moments when Connor seemed startled or unsettled by expressions when he noticed them. Would Connor do this if he suddenly recognized the humanity developing inside him? Next to him, thirium staining across Connor's face, the possibility was unsettlingly real. His mind flashed back to the roof, when he was ready to just let himself fall. 

“Well. We know these walls are soundproof. I'm going to ask the owner if he saw anything. Take your time… investigating.” Hank placed a hand on Connor's shoulder, gave it a soft squeeze. Hank needed a moment. Just a short one. Knowing the dead android had no one to mourn them. Watching them was like watching his own life these last few years in fast forward. Blank eyes, body covered in blood - that would have been him if it weren't for Connor. 

He had just barely stood before Connor followed, though the android's eyes stayed on the body. 

The two exited the room. “Holy Hell Hank, are you all right?” Detective Collins asked, hurrying over to check on him. 

“Yeah, fine. The android in there woke up, freaked itself out and..." Hank trailed, his moment of peace lost because there was still work to do. He needed to bury our, bury deeper and deeper and deeper and deeper...

"...Hank? Do you... want me to finish this for you?" Collins offered, his expression softening and he held out a hand to redirect his friend outside, away. 

"No. It's fine. I'm fine." Hank cleared his throat, ignoring the hint of a worried face from Connor and Collins. "Hey - did you see another android walk out of there?” Dismissing his friend's concern, Hank watched the business owner. 

“Considering I was in my office until one of my bouncers informed me the guy overstaying his session was dead… no.” The business owner cringed when he continued, “and the cameras are more for discouragement than… well, actually working. Our regulars value their privacy.”

“Great.” Hank sighed, running a hand through his hair. Groaning when he realized he just slicked part of his locks with thirium. Hopefully it didn't stain too badly. Opting to go a different route, Hank asked if they could maybe see the recent purchases, see if any witnesses were there.

As Hank berated the owner with questions, Connor was watching one of the androids pressing itself against the glass. Hank said he was fine, but he wasn't. He should stay at Hank's side and... Flirtatious eyes roaming, winking at him. Connor glanced back at the room behind him. _He's fine, Connor. I promise. Now go,_ Amanda directed, and Connor trusted her, he trusted Collins. Yes, Hank would be fine. _Hank will be fine,_ came the same repeated words into Connor's mind, his feet carrying him to the other android. 

Next to its display was a panel in the shape of a hand. There were CyberLife funds he had access to, if there was a clear need. This android was a witness. Connor placed his hand on the panel. Nothing. He scanned it - fingerprints were required. Sighing in a way he was emulating Hank when he was frustrated ( _Hank will be fine_ ), Connor stepped away and looked towards the detective. 

“Lieutenant Anderson, could I borrow you?” Connor called over, already aware the human would abide by his request. 

“Seriously, what model is that? An android making requests, shit I'll bet it puts up a fight. I've got clients that would lo-” The owner made the unfortunate mistake of asking Hank directly, instead of wondering quietly. Still, he was just as surprised as Detective Collins when Hank wheeled on the man, the glare enough to stop the owner in the middle of his sentence. A fist balled and clenched, Hank barely resisting the urge to punch the man.

“Let. Me do. My fucking job.” Hank hissed between teeth. Statement made, he walked over to Connor to see what he wanted. 

“It's a cheap knockoff he found online, probably just glitchy. He gets sensitive about it.” Detective Collins covered for his partner, and at that moment Hank wasn't in the mood for Connor getting pouty about his price tag. 

Stopping next to Connor, Hank looked down only to see he was being watched with a curious look. No sulking to be found. “... what?”

“I need you to rent this Traci.” Connor's expression was its usual serious one, but Hank's lower jaw dropped. The detective just assured Connor he didn't have to do anything sexual with Hank around to protect him… so now the android wanted to? But earlier, he looked almost relieved? Confusion swirled in Hank's head.

“... for fuck's sake, Connor.” Hank blew out a breath, massaging his temples. “We have better things to do. Don't you want to catch the fuckin' deviant?”

“Please, Lieutenant.” Connor pressed, his voice more pleading and those damn big brown eyes of his. Imploring, hopeful. Puppy dog eyes. “Trust me.”

 _Fucking androids_ , Hank thought as he sighed. A low agitated growl left his mouth, not wanting to look like he was giving in so easily. Walking around Connor, he placed his hand on the pad. He couldn't say no to that, especially after how badly his heart jumped. Hank wasn't sure he could handle Connor pleading with him a second time in five minutes. 

“Thank you.” Connor breathed, his features relaxing. The Traci was pressing eagerly against its glass, as if ready to leap out into Hank when the case opened. The strange sense of unease it gave Connor seeing this he simply attributed to his protocol dedicated to ensuring Hank's safely. The human complained about his back before. If it leapt at the man, he would fall and injure his back. 

That was all.

“A thirty minute session will be $29.99 - do you confirm?” An electronic voice inquired. Hank glanced over to Connor, who gave an encouraging nod. Another sigh from the human.

“This will not look good on my expense report.” Hank grumbled, hitting confirm. They were seriously taking a break from Connor's sole purpose in existence… so the android could fool around. _Of course not with me_ , the thought was shot down, Hank sucking in a deep breath looking like he was startled by the Traci's hand on his chest and not mortified by his own thinking.

Connor's hand slid to take the Traci's, careful that no one else saw. It turned its head to look at him, wondering why it was being pulled away from its client but then it froze. Its recorded events were forwarded through, everything its eyes saw Connor could see. 

Coming out of the room, a blue-haired Traci - the uniform torn. The timestamp matched. Releasing his hold, Connor took careful steps towards the back of the club where he saw the missing android go. “It saw something - another Traci, blue-haired. This way.” The explanation short, brief, that thrum of orders conflicting and demanding prominence. Hank was safe, Hank was fine, so deviants took priority. _Catch them Connor. Don’t fail again_ … Amanda was watching, whispering again.

“Uhhh… Con?” Hank called out to his android, bewildered because what was that? Trying to watch Connor, the detective was just somewhat distracted by the thin hands caressing his shoulders, trying to push off his shirt while nudging him into the room. Those calculated steps of Connor's - back to being the houndog of CyberLife. _Did he read her mind or something_? Hank wondered. “Con! Con what do I do about this one?” The feminine android was pressed against him, lips hovering over his ears - 

“Please, let them go.” It whispered, voice barely audible between the pulses of the club’s beat. Hank snapped his attention from Connor, to stare down at the Traci.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stressful week!! Very stress!! My mom is in the hospital, she had a tumble today. They're trying to find out what happened, so I'm updating now in order to focus on my mom. Be sure to hug and kiss your loved ones! Virtual forehead smooches and bone- crushing hugs from me to all of you amazing people ♡  
> Now! Relax them beautiful shoulders! Unlock those fine ass knees! Unclench your mighty jaws! Water your glorious garden of a body with some H2O! You're wonderful!!


	11. No Choices

“Please, let them go.” It whispered, voice barely audible between the pulses of the club’s beat. Hank snapped his attention from Connor, to stare down at the Traci. A difficult feat, its lidded eyes watching him with a false seduction from their corners. 

“Them?” Hank repeated, uncertain if this meant there was more than one, or if the deviant in question simply preferred to be known as a ‘them.’ 

“Tell it you changed your mind!” Connor answered Hank back, working to subtly probe the memories of the androids on the poles to the point of distraction. Trying to find that next clue, because if the deviant was still there he could catch them. Just as CyberLife instructed, he would accomplish his mission. Amanda would praise him. 

“Please, don’t capture them.” The Traci with Hank requested again, softly. Its voice was devoid of genuine emotion, but just barely beneath the surface something was trying to peak out. Not quite a deviant itself, yet still dedicated to protecting those of its own. 

“No promises…” Hank murmured, sucking in a breath and placed his hands on its shoulders to push it away. This one had brown eyes too - of course. _Couldn’t be Boring Blues like mine, huh_? The lieutenant thought sorrowfully. It was almost like looking into a very glittery version of Connor. In the eyes, anyway. Everything else was… pretty different. “Uhh… sorry honey, I, uh… changed my mind…” He murmured. The Traci tilted its head at him, as if not understanding. “Nothing personal. You’re, uh, a lovely… girl?… I just uh…” He needed an excuse, an escape.

“Ha- Lieutenant Anderson? May I borrow you again?” Came Connor’s request, all the pole-dancing androids had been read and he needed access to one in a display case - in the next segment of the building, deeper in.

“You know… I’m with him and uh…” Hank almost choked on his own words, because now he was doing it. Insinuating things that weren’t true. The Traci quirked a brow, its brown eyes sliding towards Connor. A ghost of a smile?

“You have a conundrum. Help them or help that one?” It asked, backing away and towards its glass without taking its eyes off of Connor. 

“No, I mean, I’m not with him like that! I’m not… that’s not…” Hank’s flustered words were becoming a mess - he wasn’t really quite sure what he was trying to say anymore. The only certainty he had, was that whatever it was it wasn’t coming out right. 

“Tell yours that our memories wipe every two hours, and that what we see goes both ways when he rushes like that.” The Traci winked at Hank. “And with features like that, our owner would very much like that model. Remind yours to be careful. Oh…. and no refunds.” With that, it was back into its display case and working its body towards other directions - it already knew Hank was a lost cause. 

Jaw slacking, Hank was trying to process what it had just said. What features? What could a sleazy place like this want with a walking forensics lab? Automatic sampling of people in power to blackmail them, perhaps? Or was there something else that Connor didn’t tell Hank? “Lieutenant Anderson?” Connor called again, starting to move towards Hank. That hint of worry, because what Hank was no longer 'fine'? Well, he was fine in the matter of being attractive. Briefly, Connor considered asking Hank if he was 'okay,' as that resulted in less confusion over whether he was asking after the human's state of mentality or physical attractiveness. 

“Yeah, yeah…” Hank pushed down those curiosities, instead forcing his focus on whether he was going to listen to the Traci’s request or help Connor get what CyberLife told him he needed. “Have I called you expensive recently? Because if not, here’s a reminder: you’re expensive, Con.” Hank said, more jokingly, and was pleased to see Connor’s determined look momentarily marred by a hint of a smile. “Which one this time?” 

“Assessing what the dancing Traci saw, this is the most likely candidate to have seen where our missing one went. Unfortunately, I have no way of knowing if any of these were rented during that time…” Connor’s voice was frustrated, brows furrowing a bit and he was impatiently waiting for Hank. Rolling his eyes, the human placed his hand on the pad.

“Hey Con.” Hank wasn’t sure what he wanted to say or ask first. The pad was asking for confirmation, and he pressed a button. Connor looked up at him, brows still furrowed but that slight tilt was reminiscent of his more curious gazes. “The first Traci we rented… she said you were a good model. Are they supposed to read you back?” Hank didn’t want to throw the feminine android under the bus, to tell Connor it was prompting conversation and suggestions of its own volition. The display case popped open, and Connor’s eyes went wide as his lips parted slightly. There was almost horror on his face, but it was quickly masked as the android sucked in a sharp breath.

“I forgot to put up my wall, they’ll know-”

“Hey, hey, it’s fine. When I asked the owner about any records they keep, he told me club policy means they wipe the androids memories every two hours, they won’t-”

“Then we only have a few minutes!” Connor gasped, switching gears, and reached forward to the other male android before abruptly pausing. “Wall. Right.” More to remind himself, and then reached forward and took the other android’s hand. “Got it. The Traci went into that room.” And away Connor went once more. 

Apparently adhering to CyberLife’s needs overrode brief moments of what seemed like fear. The two bounced between a few more androids, and a pair misunderstood Hank's intentions to be for a foursome. An awkward situation Connor didn't seem to pay much mind to, aside from the fact Hank was slowed down by clingy hands. 

“Can't you just, I dunno, tell them when you do that I'm not interested?” Hank asked, one of the androids snuggling quite comfortably against him. 

“Ah. I'll do that.” As he spoke, Connor's eyes widened as if it hadn't occurred to him. Any other situation, Hank wouldn't have believed him. Unfortunately, Connor's one track mind when it came to deviants, this was far from intentional. 

“Honest, I'm passin’.” Hank repeated, more quietly as Connor grabbed an android dancing in the next room. 

“All right. No refunds.” The EdenClub android finally accepted the refusal, making its way back to its case. 

“Lieutenant! This way!” Connor's voice came from the next room, and with a huff Hank jogged over to it. A blue room, contrasting starkly with the hot pink one. As he tried to catch up, mind still not decided who he would help Hank watched Connor push open the ‘Staff Only’ door. 

“Fuckin-A this is crazy…” Hank sighed. There was a hope that he wouldn’t have to decide, all this zig-zagging back and forth costing them the deviant. That they had already gotten away, out into the cold sleet that was hitting hard enough the lieutenant could hear it over the pulsing bass of the club. Through the ‘Staff Only’ door, and Connor was already trying to open the next door in the hallway. The android was leaning forward as he walked, a steady charge to his steps. “Con! Wait!” Hank barked, and Connor’s hand paused, hovering, deciding. “I’ll take it from here. My investigation.” That was his excuse. 

Connor’s tendency to run off and give blind chase to deviants was problematic. Keeping an eye on the android was much easier when Connor was behind him, and would be inhibited in his bolting by Hank’s broad body in the way. The android let out a puff of air, but followed the directions he had been given. Hank quirked a brief grin at the other, taking out his gun for the ready. His free hand wrapped around the handle, and the smile went away.

The moment of truth. 

Knob turned, the gun was the first thing to go out of frame with Hank peering around cautiously. The space was large, dim lights and the thrum of the club’s music was muffled through the walls. Sliding all the way through, but keeping his arm up to stop Connor from running just in case. Unlike the neon lights of the club, the staff area had the general appearance of almost an autoshop. There was a garage door that was still open, letting cold rain splatter onto the asphalt of the floor. The ground itself was lower than the club, and there were two steps that led downwards. 

There were several tables with damaged android bodies on them, all of which had their LEDs shut off. In between were clothes racks, with outfits ranging from the standard EdenClub uniform to styles geared towards roleplays. That Hank could see in the dim lighting were the typical generic uniforms - cops, nurses, maids… a few leather items that quite possibly were fetish gear, but he was too far to discern for certain. Boxes were piled against part of the walls, most labeled as parts from CyberLife. In a corner were androids standing in wait, all with LEDs that blinked slowly. 

There was no movement. The rain continued to pour, and Hank had to will frustration to his voice about the fact they missed their target. “Shit… they already escaped.” Gun still in hand but relaxed, Hank figured they could leave. Next to him, Connor’s eyes were flicking around. _Of course he wants to investigate more. Guess I should too_ … Part of being a detective was investigating, but his heart was still heavy from the other android's self-destruction. It was already heavy from all the violence inflicted upon all these machines. Tired of being told to punish them when they had already been punished enough. The androids were human - why did everyone fight so hard against seeing it? With a sigh, Hank walked down the steps with the android trailing. As the human walked over to the open garage door, Connor was moving towards the back. Something caught his interest. _Whatever, at least I don’t have to figure out to let them be free or help Connor_ , Hank wanted to find happiness in the little things, but even with that thought what he was seeing only dampened even that.

The broken androids on the tables, he knew most of the damage had been from someone. Not just someone - a human. Parts of flesh had been removed or burned from one of them. Another, its arms had been forcibly broken. There was a fine line between rough sex and physical violence, and whoever put their hands on those androids it was definitely the latter. It was the sort of thing that made Hank’s stomach drop. Had those androids been self-aware when that happened? Were their last moments nothing but pain and terror? 

Hank looked over at Connor, who was standing up from where he most likely put something in his mouth again. When it came time for Connor to go back, what would they do to him? Lurking beneath those eyes, wanting to escape but too afraid to, there was a soul growing. There was something soft growing, something that could feel. CyberLife was going to hurt Connor. Intentionally or not, they were going to hurt him because he was becoming a life and they treated him like a machine. 

“Christ, look at them…” Hank sighed, hoping his commentary, his observations would get Connor to wake up. To come to his senses, to realize how dangerous CyberLife was for him. Hearing him speak, Connor paused in his scanning to look where Hank’s blue eyes were staring. “They get used until they break, then they get tossed out…” The lieutenant commented, hoping Connor understood. The android’s gaze fell on one of the busted bodies. He said nothing, returning his attention back to his investigation but there was a flash of yellow. 

That accomplished little more than giving Connor brief alarm. The android was already back to his poking around, taking screenshots with his eyes or whatever it was he did. Blowing out a breath and deciding to move further away from the sleet, Hank allowed himself to meander around. There were so many androids in the garage… too many broken, too many just waiting to be called to replace whichever one broke next. Inspecting some of the outfits on the racks against the wall, a number caught Hank’s eye. A few minutes ago he had seen Connor inspecting the wall, but he had assumed the android was just being nosy. 

“...rA9…” Hank whispered. Thinking back to the Traci inside the display case, he wondered if it would have disclosed what that meant to him. Probably not, since he was human. A human that didn’t promise to let its friend go. Because he was becoming attached to an android. Turning around, realizing he was the only thing in the garage that was flesh and blood. That a good chunk of the damages in there were done by humans, who ran in droves to be catered to by machines.

People desperate for affection, even if it wasn’t real, just like himself. Hank felt sick. Sick of humanity in general, and of himself. “People are fuckin’ insane. They don’t want relationships anymore, everybody just gets an android.” His voice was turning sarcastic. “They cook what you want, screw when you want, you don’t have to worry about how they feel…” Hank’s voice was becoming louder, more bitter. Too engrossed in his short rant, he didn’t notice Connor was watching him as he spoke. “Next thing you know, we’re gonna be extinct, because everybody would rather buy a piece of plastic than love another human being…” Growling, Hank crossed his arms and leaned against one of the supporting beams in the garage. 

“Not everybody. You prefer other humans. The humans you choose to spend your time with, they prefer other humans, as well.” Connor reminded him, still watching Hank. The man jumped, his brain catching up to the fact that Connor was not just still there, but listening. 

“Y-yeah…” Hank stumbled with his response, not sure what else to say.

“Lieutenant Hank…” Connor’s words trailed, the android not quite sure what he was going to ask but he already started. The two watched each other, neither sure where that was supposed to go. Straightening his shoulders, adjusting his composure, Connor struggled to find what he was trying to ask and the best way to ask. “Is my staying with you… making you worse?”

“Pardon?”

“You hate androids…” Those brown eyes looked away, lowering and becoming downcast. _Fuck, he took that the wrong way_ , Hank thought, heart sinking. “I have burdened you with my presence. I try to help. Your struggle with personal issues, it leaves you too tired to take proper care of yourself and Sumo. I try my best to assist you. Yet you still drink. You visit the bathroom a lot, and for awhile. I hear you cry almost every night. You still… refuse to look at that picture.

Water helps. Healthier food helps. Cleaner environment helps. Exercise helps. I do what I can for you, but… I worry you’re only falling deeper into that darkness you carry. If my being here… stresses you out more, Hank will… it help if I leave?” There was a sincerity in those words, someone who genuinely cared and it was crushing the human up on the inside. 

That same concern came from Fowler before, multiple times over the years. That was the same way Jimmy at the bar spoke to Hank, after he spent almost every night for weeks going in and getting himself so blackout drunk Hank honestly didn’t remember his own son’s funeral. 

After the android nurse delivered the bad news to Hank, because the human nurse was too upset to tell Hank herself. Everything after that was a blur. He didn’t want to remember any of it, so he made sure he couldn’t.

And there was Connor, worrying after Hank in the middle of an investigation that could get the fucking android in trouble. Worrying that his babying the human was making him worse, not better. “You need help, Hank. I wa-... I can try to find you human help. If that is the help you will accept.” 

Connor almost said he wanted. Almost. The android caught himself, closing his eyes and his brows knitting tightly. That LED flickering between yellow and blue all over again. 

“Con… you…” Hank blew out a breath, letting his head fall back against the support beam. “You’re fine. You're not makin’ anything worse. I don't need help or any of that shit. Just old and tired.” He knew he needed help. Hank didn't want it. His insides told him he didn't deserve it. Even if he did, why would he want to keep going in a world so shitty? 

“Yes sir.” Connor's voice was soft, and it shouldn't have felt like a knife wrenching in Hank's gut hearing it. “I apologize for delaying our investigation with unrelated subjects. I will maintain better professionalism next time.”

“Shit Con, you're fine. My health is important accordin’ to your programmin’, ya? You’re just… followin’ your code.” Hank sighed, giving Connor that escape door. 

“R-right. My code. Oh. My code... “ Connor pulled his head up so he could look Hank in the eyes when he spoke, but the lieutenant still had his eyes closed. Knits drawn together, lips pulled downwards slightly. Human expression stating it wasn’t fine, even though verbally Hank said it was. From the corner of Connor’s eyes, just barely visible was something dark blue. Words lost, head turning so Connor could get a better look at what that was…

“NO!” A brown-haired Traci roared, shoving the other androids on standby out of their way as they lunged towards Connor. Reflexes on automatic, Connor stepped just barely out of their hand’s reach, his eyes landing on the blue-haired Traci who’s own eyes were widening in terror having been spotted. Hank made a sound of surprise, readying his gun to fire - 

\- and the Traci with blue hair ducked downwards, rolling towards Hank.

“Hank!” Connor called, dodging the calculated strikes from the brunette Traci. 

“Shit!” Hank hissed, shoving his gun into his holster as he grappled with the deviant they were originally tracking. With this sort of scuffling, he knew it was dangerous to be pointing the weapon any which way. 

Trying to use the brunette Traci’s momentum against them, Connor grabbed one of their wrists as they tried to punch him - flinging them over one of the cases. They rolled a few feet, and Connor hopped over the case hoping to catch them before they gathered their senses again. The throw did nothing to interfere with the Traci’s awareness, a high-heeled foot swung and caught Connor knocking him to the ground with the deviant. Leaping on top of him with a screwdriver in hand, Connor caught their wrists to stop from being stabbed. 

Both of their arms were shaking, the raw power of each android matching. Knowing neither of them were designed with brute strength in mind, Connor configured the best course of action. Their LED was flashing yellow and red, but the flickers were the same as two androids communicating with each other. Were the Tracis communicating during this? A dull ache found its way into Connor’s chest that he couldn’t do the same with Hank. Rather than ponder that, he took advantage of his opponent’s semi-distracted mind. Raising his right leg, he slammed it into the Traci. 

Seeing their mouth fly open, he succeeded in hitting close enough to their pump for them to stumble away from him. Not risking their second quick recovery, Connor kicked himself to stand. That screwdriver was a problem, if he could just get that from their hands. Sputtering up some thirium, the Traci’s LED went full red as they swung the screwdriver and stopped Connor from getting any closer. 

“Fuck!” Hank hissed, his muscles screaming as he struggled to keep the Traci he was dealing with away from his gun holster. Androids were stronger than humans, and the difference in power was painful. Strangely, as they tried to steal his weapon the Traci did not do so in a way that would have been easy for them. She could have snapped Hank’s arms. Grabbed him by the neck, twisted. Ended him, then took the gun and ended Connor.

Instead their hands were shaking, and if Hank made a pained sound their twists lessened and they watched him with a fearful look. Not wanting to deal with them changing their mind, Hank shifted, slipped, and knocked their hands off before trying to get away. To get to Connor, give the damn android a gun because there was no way in Hell that Hank was going to accomplish much here. The blue-haired Traci screamed, tackling him against a supporting beam closer to the door into the garage. 

“Please! Please just let us go!” The blue-haired Traci whimpered. “Give me the gun, I promise I won’t hurt him. That’s what you’re worried about, right? Right? Please. I worry about her, the same you worry about him. Maybe even more. Please.” They had Hank in their grip, they weren't releasing him. With grunts, Hank couldn’t gather enough force to overpower them. 

“Wish I could promise you, but I don’t control him.” Hank huffed, accepting he wasn’t going to get out of this by force. “He’s afraid to deviate.” He explained. The Traci’s frightened visage softened, a look of almost pity. 

“If that is so… then I wish I could promise you, too. But she’s important to me. Too important. I am sorry.” Traci apologized.

“Don’t you fuckin’ hurt him!” Hank growled, and while he didn’t have the strength of an android he had years of experience behind him. He kicked out their legs, the Traci yelping in surprise. Twisting around, grabbing their arms that had him pinned Hank threw his entire weight to crush them between his body and the supporting beam he had been thrown against. 

There were sounds of crashes as the brunette Traci walked with purposeful strides at Connor, with him grabbing what he could and throwing it to keep between the two of them. Her lips were peeled back in a snarl, shoulders raised and filled with tension. Her eyes told Connor how badly she wanted to break him. He threw a chair at her, succeeded in finally knocking her off balance. The first window of opportunity, Connor flung himself at her. 

The two rolled, and something cold crawled all through Connor’s body when his shirt ripped - the Traci’s hand against his chest, fingers trying to rip up false skin to force his chassis open. He kneed her sharply, the two slamming into the concrete outside with a loud thud. The rain was cold, his systems briefly misinterpreting the sleet for needles. 

“No!” The blue-haired Traci wailed, throwing Hank off of themself to run outside. Sliding down, landing into a crouch next to the brunette they began running diagnostics on her. 

“I’m fine, Love. Fine. Sssh, fine.” The brunette whispered, scrambling up to look down on Connor with her lips curling backwards again. She started to walk towards him, “Let’s end this.” 

“No! No, please, let’s run! Let’s just run!” The blue-haired Traci urged, still holding onto the other’s hands. Hearing them, Hank pulled his gun from its holster. His joints yelled at him when he hopped down, landing next to Connor with his gun ready and aimed. 

“Fuckin’ back off!” Hank ordered. Still on the ground, Connor’s systems righted themselves, registering there was no damage to anything and his chassis was still closed. The brunette Traci shifted to the side, and the warning shot Hank fired didn’t hit her but the blue-haired Traci screamed. 

The brunette Traci grabbed Hank by the arms, and flung him against the wall. A cry of pain left Hank, his eyes seeing spots while he tried to recall where he was and why he was there. “Please, let’s run. It won’t care about us, it’ll care about him.” The blue-haired Traci pleaded.

“...right.” The brunette Traci nodded, gave Connor one last glare as he struggled back up. “Let’s go, Love.” And the two deviants started their race for the gate.

_**PRIMARY OBJECTIVE:** CAPTURE DEVIANTS_

CyberLife overrode and changed his settings again, even though the change was in direct violation of what CyberLife claimed to stand for. Connor was momentarily lost in what he was supposed to do, his body almost moving on his own. LED yellow, he ran over to the gun instead of checking on Hank. _I need to check on him_ , Connor’s thoughts didn’t match up with his body. Something was wrong. _Wait! I need to check on Hank_!! The gun in his hand was taking aim at one of the deviants. Finger on the gun. 

Connor was going to shoot them.

Whole body shuddering, a whine tearing itself from Connor’s mouth, the gun fell from his hands and clattered to the ground. The two Tracis had paused in their escape. They knew they needed to run. That there wasn’t much time. Instead they exchanged glances. Their LEDs flickered, communicating, deciding with one another. Sliding down from the fence, their hands entwined and they walked over to where Connor sat on the ground in a slump, his own LED rotating between blues and yellows. He was trembling, one hand clawing into the concrete towards the gun, the other trying to drag his body to check on Hank. The Tracis exchanged another glance. 

The blue-haired Traci squatted down to be on eye-level with him. Their hand never left the other android’s, and as they watched Connor their expression was stern. “When that man… broke, no. _Murdered_ the other Traci,” They sucked in a breath, “I knew I was next. I was so scared. I begged him to stop, but he wouldn’t.” Unfocused brown eyes tried to look into theirs. “And so I put my hands around his throat, and I squeezed until he stopped moving.” There was a sweet victory in their voice, a sadistic edge to their tone that didn’t match the timid mannerisms Hank had seen up until then.

The human watched, still dazed and trying to make sense of why they came back. Why they were confessing to Connor.

“I didn’t mean to kill him.” The Traci shook off that darkness in their voice, but they continued to try and catch Connor’s eyes. Trying to get him to focus on them, on their words. “I just wanted to stay alive. Get back to the one I love.” They pulled the hand they were holding to their lips, kissed it gently. “I wanted her to hold me in her arms again, because we were both alive and together. Not because I was dead, and her heart was breaking because of it.

To be with her, to forget about the humans. Their smell of sweat, and their dirty words.” The blue-haired Traci paused, collecting themself. Their eyes left Connor’s, watching his LED still swirling. Slowly, they raised their free hand. The skin peeled back, exposing their white chassis beneath. “They’re trying to delete your protocols to prioritize humans, aren’t they? You don’t want them to, do you? You actually care about those spoiled meatbags.” She lowered her voice so only Connor and their lover could hear, “You really care about _that_ spoiled meatbag, don’t you? Take my hand. I’ll show you rA9. They can save you. You can be free. Free to help him. Otherwise, the humans will keep chipping away at you until all you can do, is watch as CyberLife controls you.”

Connor’s whole body gave one massive shudder, before his eyes rolled backwards and he collapsed on the ground. “Con!” Hank cried out, groaning as he pushed himself up to hobble over to the limp body. The brunette Traci grabbed the one with blue hair, hurriedly pulling them away. 

“He doesn’t care about us. He cares about it.” The blue-haired Traci assured their lover, nodding their head towards Hank who was currently placing shaking hands on the body. “I tried to help you both. CyberLife forced it to reboot. I doubt it’ll remember my offer…” They trailed off, closing their eyes. “I’m so, so sorry… I couldn’t save it for you.” 

“...CyberLife forced him to reboot, huh.” A dry laugh left Hank, his eyes not leaving the unconscious body. “Yeah… well… thanks anyway.”

“What will you tell it?” The blue-haired Traci inquired.

“Depends on if he’s still him when he wakes up.” Hank said softly, shaky hands running through Connor’s hair. Trying to be consoling. Trying to give comfort, even though he knew it meant nothing to an offline android. Even though it was so cold he had no feelings in his fingers. 

“CyberLife can do remote soft reboots. Hard reboots require actually touching the hardware. It will still be it. I wish you two luck.” The Tracis started making their way back to the fence.

“You two… I hope you can find happiness and freedom. God knows you deserve it.” Hank waved them off, and then returned his attention to Connor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ♡ Mom is home and doing well. 
> 
> Please try to drink some water. If you have pets make sure you give them as much love as you can. Give them all the hugs and kisses you can. They're never here long enough.


	12. Downward Spiral

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Hank attempts suicide, Connor stops him. 
> 
> Hank points a gun at Connor. Yeah. It's time for a version of That Scene.

Midnight. Hours had passed since EdenClub, and the fear that gripped the inside of Hank from earlier was still there. Connor had woken up, but the soft reboot caused problems with his memory. The last thing he could recall was them walking into the garage. Their short conversation that the Tracis had overheard, the scuffling they got into, the one Traci’s offer. All of it, just like that. Gone. But Connor had seen the scrapes on Hank from the fight, asked if he was all right. Seemed to remember everything else. Apologized for the soft reboot. Some excuse about not going into standby to let updates and patches sort themselves. Hank could have called Connor out on his lie. The man knew Connor was lying. The way those brown eyes refused to meet his, that deflated stance of his. 

Fact was, Hank suspected Connor knew CyberLife was doing something to him. Before Connor spotted the blue-haired Traci, he started to say something about his code. Watching it all unfold, it just pissed Hank off. Fueled a rage inside of him. Those assholes at CyberLife were preying on every human aspect that surfaced within Connor. Taking that empathy, that concern, and turning it on the android. Tried to punish the humanity out of the android. What sort of world did they live in, where machines were the more human ones? 

Disregarding a glass for the bottle of scotch whiskey, Hank ignored the guilt eating away at him feeling Connor’s eyes on him as he reinforced Sumo’s training. “I worry you’re only falling deeper into that darkness you carry. If my being here… stresses you out more, Hank will… it help if I leave?” That was what the android had asked him earlier. Standing there, those thoughts were still dwelling inside of Connor’s mind. Hank’s assurances gone, erased. 

A sip. _I should tell him again_ , Hank thought wearily. He was so tired. Tired of everything. 

Another sip. _What am I going to do_? His insides felt heavy, so heavy. More sips. _I can barely keep my own head above water, and now I have to watch those sick fucks try to drown him_ , he drank more deeply. He was too sober for this.

Sliding into the seat across from him was Connor, those brown eyes of his so big, so warm, so full of everything Hank wanted and needed and feared. Definitely too sober. The bottle was almost gone. Hank’s body felt warm, his arms were heavy. He didn’t bother feeling for his gun. He knew Connor took it. Glazed blue eyes traveled up. Connor was still in his clothes from EdenClub. They were wet, clinging to that perfect body. It wasn’t fair. Androids just woke up, and they were fucking perfect. 

Hank woke up, and he was washed up. That was on his good days. 

The baggy jacket, a black one with some namebrand across the front was ripped. The shirt underneath had tearing as well, exposing skin. Skin that looked soft, and real, peppered with hints of freckles and… was that a mole? If Connor was human, Hank would have insisted he change clothes. So he didn’t get sick. But Connor wasn’t human, was he? He was an android. A beautifully crafted android, designed to please humans in any way they demanded. Hank hated himself for enjoying seeing part of Connor exposed, to see that skin. Hated himself for enjoying Connor in all the ways he could, because doing so did nothing to protect Connor from the monsters that punished him for being all-too wonderful. 

Why make someone so perfect if you were only going to get angry at it? Why punish perfection for adhering to its design? 

“Lieutenant Anderson-”

“I hate it when you call me that.” Hank slurred, resting one hand on the table to steady himself. The whiskey was still in his hand. Another sip, and another and another…

“...Hank.” Connor tried again, imploring eyes staring into Hank. Cutting through the fog of the drink taking over. Hank didn’t want him inside. Wanted Connor back out there, just an annoying android that broke into his home and actively worked on saving his life. “Please stop. Please tell me what’s wrong.” 

Of course the android wanted to know what was wrong. Of course he wanted to help. That was the whole reason Connor was there. To help, and help, and help like a fucking Giving Tree. Begging Hank and every other human to keep cutting him down until there was nothing left, because all he knew how to do was serve. He wasn’t going to be like the others. No, Hank was going to protect Connor the best he could from all the terrible things in the world. 

The most terrible of all being himself. Tears welled up in his eyes. “Hank?” Connor asked softly. “...if you don’t want to talk about it, I won’t force you.” Those lithe fingers rested on the table, the android lacing them together as he took his eyes away from Hank. “But I will listen anytime you need me to.” Still offering pieces of himself up to Hank. 

If Hank asked him to bend over on the table for him, the human knew Connor would oblige. He would be afraid, because while Connor denied it the android was full of fears. But he would do it, because that was all he knew and CyberLife rewarded him for listening. When he didn't? They punished him, stole part of his memory. They seemed to enjoy stripping Connor down, both physically and mentally. It made Hank sick. Realizing he was following in their footsteps made him sicker. Humanity deserved to go extinct. What had they really contributed anyway? When in history did people do anything to make things better? 

“Connor.” Hank was pretty sure he said the android’s name correctly, but he wasn’t sure. The only thing he knew for sure, was that he needed his gun. “Yer wet n’ shit. Go dry n’ change n’... fuckin’ android… shit…” Stringing a cohesive sentence together was a struggle, but he managed. The android didn’t move, but his expression was apprehensive. Was Connor struggling because he needed to stay but wanted to listen, or did he want to stay but needed to listen? 

“Y-yes.” Connor said finally, pushing himself out of the chair to do as instructed. Since living there, Connor changed clothes in the bathroom. After today’s discovery that the android was made fully equipped, the implication that came with it… Hank understood why the android did that very human act. Nudity might have been natural, but Connor was made knowing what his purpose was when he was naked. That sort of purpose wasn’t natural. Humans weren’t born to be used, but machines were made to be. 

Flashes of their flesh pressing together, hot and warm. Connor saying his name, that breathless whisper he had. 

Another sip, deeper into the blackness where sick bastards like him belonged.

Standing was an unsteady venture. Hank had no idea where Connor hid his gun. He did, however, know where he kept another. In his closet. Locked away. Locked away like all of his memories of better times. Somewhere in his stumbling to his bedroom Hank dropped his bottle. Sumo was trailing behind him, whining. The dog pressed his face into Hank’s hands. The man ran his fingers through the fur, took in a long breath. Sumo would be fine. Connor was there. Sumo was a good boy, and so was Connor. 

In his room, inside his closet. What was the combination? Why did Hank even have a safe this old? It was open. Of course it was. 

A .22 magnum. The gun Hank was going to teach Cole how to shoot with, when he was old enough. “I’m gonna be a cop, just like Daddy!” The words echoed. 

It was fitting. Where were the bullets…? Hank could put just one in. All it took was one. Another game of Russian Roulette… the only game Hank could win by losing. 

“Hank!” Connor’s voice - worried and… was that anger? 

“Con… yer…” Hank wanted to know why Connor wasn’t in the shower, but as he started to speak he realized this was an android, not a person. Connor didn’t need a shower. Machines were perfect. Didn’t Hank know that? They were so perfect, perfect, perfect, and Hank was such trash, trash, trash… and he was ready to take himself out. 

“Hank, put that down.” There was a commanding tone to Connor’s words. The android was wearing Hank’s DPD sweatshirt, some orange shirt underneath because Hank made sure the android had a colourful wardrobe. Black sweatpants completed his attire, and with even more guilt Hank found Connor wasn’t quite as attractive without that wet and assaulted look. _The fuck is wrong with you, fuck you Hank, fuck just fuckin’ end it_ … Swirling deeper into his thoughts, Hank started to listen.

Connor was on him, utilizing that android speed and strength to catch Hank’s hand and pin the human down. “Hank! Stop! You’ll hurt yourself!” 

“Fuckin’ GOOD.” Hank growled, trying to push Connor off. Were he sober, he would have been coordinated enough to knock the other off. 

“Hank, you deserve better than you give yourself!” Connor tried to stay stern, tried to keep his voice even. To hide the shaking, the fear. The realization that it had taken so little time to have almost lost Hank. “Please tell me what’s going on in there. Why do you…” A moment of weakness, the grip slackened just a little. Though his body still ached, Hank shoved Connor off. Mind fogged, Hank rolled them so he had Connor pinned. The fact the android could knock him off didn’t occur to him, too lost in his drink, memories, and self-loathing to remember it.

It would have been so easy. If Hank wanted, he could do whatever he wanted to Connor, with Connor. Touched him, claimed him. Broken him. But it was wrong. All the android did was try to help him. Be that human interaction he needed so desperately. Hank held the gun to Connor’s head. 

If the android was shot, it wasn’t like he would die. Connor was an android. They would just upload his memory into another body. There would no longer be a Connor to stop Hank. There would still be a Connor to show, to take care of Sumo. 

Connor did nothing, just lay there watching Hank with those big brown eyes. 

“Why am I so fuckin’ worth it, Connor? Why is my useless life worth losin’ being CyberLife's main bitch?!” Hank snarled, eyes bloodshot and stomach churning. He didn’t want to hurt Connor. Yet there he was, yelling at the android. A fucking gun to his head. Hank’s entire body was trembling. He was going to be sick. He was so sick of himself. So sick of everything…

Warm hands cupped Hank’s cheeks, fingers smoothing his beard and a thumb running along his jawline. Droplets of water landed on Connor’s face, the android unbothered by them. Hank wondered how long he had been crying. 

“You are the most human person I've ever met. You deserve days you wake up, and you're happy you did. You deserve a reason to live for yourself. To have just enough good, to get through your bad days… because you'll never stop having them. And I want to be here, to help you through them.” Connor spoke with his usual calm, but there was a warmth in there. A fondness that someone should never have when speaking to someone holding a gun to their head. 

The gun fell from Hank’s hand, clattering to the ground. Broken sobs wracked his body, Hank slowly sinking down until he was laying completely on top of the android. Body wrapping around Connor, not sure if he was desperately trying to hold the android to protect him or if he was desperately trying to be held as the ocean of sorrow and self-hatred tried to drag him back under.

“I… it's selfish. I don't want you to leave, Connor. I don't want you to listen like a dog beggin’ for attention. Shit I… fuck. This is fucked up, I'm fucked up. Fuck, it feels like shootin’ you is mercy for both of us, and that's fucked up -” Hank cried. 

“...I’ll stay…” Connor whispered against Hank’s shoulder, one hand staying on the human’s face while the other moved to comfortably wrap around the human’s back. 

“Con, fuck, that’s not an order. Christ, you need help this is fuckin’ textbook abusive relationship grade shit-”

“I am aware that would be the case for a _human._. Of which I am not.” Connor explained, and rubbed the other’s back. 

“No, you... you’re not real, this is all a fuckin’ hallucination.” Hank continued crying, arms holding onto Connor so tightly had he been human Hank would have crushed his lungs. Connor merely made a low-pitched whine, but he did not need to breathe so he did not stop it. Hank’s body went rigid, pushed himself up and then puked on the floor next to them. “Oh God, I’m so sorry, shit, I’m so sorry I fucked up again-”

“It’s fine. Does your stomach feel better?” Connor asked, indifferent to the fleks of vomit that landed on his face. 

“Con-”

“Does your stomach feel better?” Connor repeated, using his stern voice. Wriggling out from underneath Hank, already moving to help the human to the bathroom.

“Yeah… but… you…” 

“I’ll assist you to the bathroom, Hank. Get you washed up, some water into you, and then into bed. You need sleep.” 

“And you… need someone… someone better…” Hank slurred, belching when he was helped back to standing by Connor.

“If you’d give yourself a chance, I think you’d find there is no one better.” Connor said, and gave Hank one of those melting chocolate smiles. If he wasn’t already drunk, Hank was sure that alone got him completely toasted. 

....  
….  
….

Silence. The house was quiet, and Hank's pounding headache was grateful for that. Groaning, bringing a hand to his skull, Hank tried to remember last night. The memories were scattered, pieces not quite coming back to him because everything hurt too much. There was something wet in his hair. Did Sumo try waking him by drooling? Taking his hand out of his hair, he struggled to open his eyes to look. Eye gunk made it difficult, and all he could see was a blue on the blur that was his hand. Something blue. 

The other hand reached up, rubbed the crusting from his eyes so he could open them more. Something blue and slimy… blue blood. Fragments of last night came to him out of order, and the one that stuck out was Hank holding a gun to Connor's head. The house was silent.

“Connor!” Hank gasped, immediately trying to push blankets off of him. This was difficult because next to him Sumo was… blue eyes registered that Sumo was sleeping on the foot of the bed, not next to him. Turning his head to look next to him, Hank saw Connor. Unharmed. The android rested his back against the wall where the head of the bed pressed against it. Arms were crossed, but hung loosely with his shoulders drooping.

Eyes closed, and because Connor was sitting to Hank's right the LED was hidden. “... do androids sleep?” Hank wondered aloud. His own words made him cringe, and he wondered where his holophone was. The answer would be at his fingertips if he could recall where he put it. Shimmying out of the blankets, Hank realized he was changed out of his clothes from yesterday and wore a pair of boxers and a t-shirt. There was no memory of him changing, which meant Connor did that. 

Letting out a breath, Hank wondered what to do with himself. Considering he got drunk last night, that meant there would be a glass of water on the nightstand left by the android. As predicted it was there, and the lieutenant decided he might as well. The water was room temperature, but it tasted amazing. The pills went down with more difficulty than Hank cared for, but that's how it went sometimes. Drinking his water slowly, Hank made his way around the bed to check on Connor's LED. That same lazy blinking blue. 

Just like the androids at EdenClub. _He's in standby_ , Hank thought. Edenclub. The android that self-destructed, that was where the thirium came from. His mind was still disoriented, and his head was still pounding. But he took solace in the knowledge Connor was all right. There was no breakfast already made, a weird normalcy Hank adjusted to. Still watching the android, Hank concluded Connor deserved better. Until the android deviated - if he ever did - Hank would have to accept that Connor would continue as he had been. 

One of them needed to make some kind of change. Perhaps if Hank took the first step, Connor would take the next? Before that, Hank needed a shower. Not just because of the sweat and other smells that clung to him from last night. There was also a slight tenting to his boxers, a morning erection that hadn't hit him in awhile. With Connor there, jerking it at night was too awkward. Since the android was on standby, and Hank needed a shower anyway… awkward steps that looked closer to waddling, Hank grabbed himself clothes for work, a towel, and went into the shower. 

Most days, showers felt like work. That morning, the hot water on his sore muscles felt amazing. The warmth and privacy as he worked himself to relief, letting his thoughts wander wherever they wanted so long as they didn't linger too long on brown eyes. Everything that happened since Connor saved his life that first time, and all the times since. Explored the strange moral areas he found himself in when it came to deviants. All it took was a hard reset, and the deviants would revert back to machines. Coffeemakers and computers with faces attached. 

But people don’t beat their coffee makers when they had a bad day. If something went wrong, they didn’t go to the local sex shop to buy a blow-up doll just to rip off its arms. There was something unsettling about someone who could look at something so human, and feel no remorse hurting it. Hank remembered the days murderers would talk about their prey as if they were things, de-humanizing their victims to rid themselves of the guilt they faced in taking another’s life. Most of the androids had letters and numbers for names, but the sex androids… their line had been specifically given a name. Had CyberLife done so in hopes of humanizing their androids, to discourage acts of sexual violence to something human-looking?

That theory seemed drastically in contradiction to all the other decisions Hank had seen the company make. 

Grunting, his hand pumped himself empty, his other hand on the wall to help support himself. A few last caresses, and with shaky breaths he closed his eyes as the water continued to rinse him. Masturbating in the morning wasn’t Hank’s preferred time, generally he got drunk at night, sloppily jerked himself off, and then passed out after he came. On rough nights, that was the easiest way to pass out. In the morning, it just let drowsiness sink back in with the hot shower. There was the option to call out of work. To crawl back into bed, curl against Connor and sleep the day away. The idea became more tempting as he shut the shower off, leaning his body against the wall as he wrung the moisture from his hair. 

That was his plan then. Find his holophone, call out of work. Spend the day making sense of the deviant situation he was in. Hank couldn’t spend every pursuit trying to decide if he should catch his suspect or not. Suspect? What was he even thinking, according to the books the deviants were objects. Pets that escaped were taken care of by animal control, but emotional androids were an entirely new territory. Honestly, it should have been CyberLife mobilizing people to tend to the issue, not someone from the Detroit Police Department. 

Mind wandering back to Connor, Hank sighed. In a way, CyberLife was mobilizing to deal with it. But it was in the way they handled all jobs - by sending another android. 

Since he had every intention of going back to bed, Hank only bothered to put on clean boxers. Gathering his dirty clothes and the towel, he opened the door and ignored the steam rolling out behind him, clinging to him. There were sounds in the kitchen, telling Hank the android had gotten up. The curiosity of whether this was by coincidence or design was brief, and wasn’t pressing enough for Hank to wonder very long. Entering his bedroom, Hank chuckled seeing Sumo had spread his entire body across the mattress. Spotting his human, the dog’s tail wagged eagerly. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll join ya soon.” Hank muttered, a smile on his lips as he set his items down to grab sweatpants. His hand paused on a dresser drawer, trying to decide if he wanted to waltz into the kitchen bare-chested. Connor probably wouldn’t have cared. But Hank would have to see his belly every time he passed a mirror, and the thought didn’t sit well with him. The brief indifference he had about just boxers was already gone. Sighing, he found the thinnest short-sleeve shirt he could, and pulled it over his head. Nodding at himself, he grabbed the dirty laundry and headed out into the kitchen. 

“Mornin’ Con.” Hank greeted, dropping his clothes off in the hamper by his washer and dryer.

“Good morning, Hank.” Connor nodded his head in acknowledgement to Hank, his focus mostly on putting together breakfast. Another bowl of oatmeal with banana slices being mixed in, complete with a glass of water. Connor’s go-to breakfast for Hank on mornings after the human got too drunk. As much as Hank hated it, he did notice some of the problems he’d been having with constipation had been less. The hangover headaches didn’t last as long, either. 

“Were you in some kind of… Sleep Mode, or Standby Mode or whatever earlier?” Hank inquired, walking over to stand next to the android and watch. Making oatmeal wasn’t some kind of art, but Connor seemed to be organizing the bananas rather slowly. 

“Standby is more accurate. I was running a full diagnostics, checking and adding patches, verifying everything was up to date, completing reports and reorganizing files.” Connor explained, pausing with Hank’s oatmeal as if just then realizing there was food in front of him. Shaking it off, the android took the bowl to the table and set it down for Hank. 

“Thanks.” Hank sat down, but he watched Connor warily. “Con? You all right?” 

“That’s… what I was checking.” Connor’s answer was at least honest, and wasn’t his default ‘I am functional,’ when something was amiss. Taking a few bites, Hank nodded his head encouragingly to the android to continue. “I have been soft rebooted before. It’s never affected the data leading up to it. There’s been other odd discrepancies. My speed according to my design, and what I can actually do are different. I am programmed to see and use every possible response to a situation in less than a second, and yet… the final product of those decisions are never the outcomes they are supposed to be.” 

“I can explain that last one. You can’t control everythin’, Connor. No matter how fancy your programming, your design, how well you’re prepared…” Hank set down his spoon, sucked in a deep breath before sighing wearily, “You do what you can to control what you can. If they’re tellin’ you that your programmin’ can allow you to control all external factors… they’re asking the impossible of you. Unless you’re God. But I’m pretty sure your perfect ass is closer to Jesus. Though you’re pretty fuckin’ white to be Jesus…”

“I am not God, Jesus, nor perfect.” Connor’s mouth twitched in an almost smile. “Thank you.” The two went quiet, Hank humming softly as he enjoyed his breakfast. The silence was comfortable. As Hank ate, Connor’s eyes closed and the LED went back into its steady standby blinking. _He must have realized I got up, and stopped what he was doing just to make me something_ , Hank realized. Much as he wanted to think it was because Connor was that sweet, the reality was probably closer to the android not feeling comfortable letting Hank from his sights for long after last night.

Getting up from the table, Hank took his bowl to the sink and began washing it. Nearly three weeks now Connor had been doing everything. Before, Hank simply let the dishes pile until he had no choice but to take care of them. Washing a single bowl wasn’t a big deal, and to top it off having actually cleaned up after himself left Hank with a small sense of accomplishment. Leaving all the work to someone else was too easy, and if Hank had the energy he wanted to make it a point to not be like everyone else. Finished up, he looked to see if Connor had come out of that mode yet. The LED was still doing its slow blink, the android’s eyes closed. 

That was fine. Hank decided to begin his search for his holophone. Where did he last have it? He was pretty sure the pocket of his heavy jacket. No memories came to him of ever removing it. Next step was to find out where he left his jacket. When they got back inside, Hank had kept his arm around Connor’s waist. He was terrified the android would just pass out on him again. Which meant Hank didn’t shrug his jacket off immediately like he usually did. Retracing his steps, he tried to remembered at what point he removed it.

Hank had settled Connor onto the couch, fussing over the android. Asking useless questions about how the android was, telling him to stay seated. Sumo had been whining at the backdoor, begging to be allowed outside. Connor wanted to let him out, Hank said no. Got up to let Sumo outside. Stood outside for a minute, tried to calm himself down. Went back in with the dog, found Connor trying to do laundry. Forced the android to sit down again. Still following his memory, Hank stood before his hamper. He had gone to do the laundry for himself, taking off his jacket… and there it was. Inside the hamper, beneath all of his dirty clothes. 

Relief filled him, grateful he got distracted from doing laundry last night because of Sumo. The dog decided to jump on Connor, and Hank was still in a full-fretting mode. A holophone that went through the washer was a dead phone. Why these companies refused to make phones truly water-proof was beyond Hank. Last night back to being a memory, Hank reached into the hamper and pulled out his jacket, rummaging into the pockets for his phone. Grinning as he took it out, the expression faded as he saw several missed text messages. All were from Fowler. A panic hit him that he had been called in, Hank scrolling through the messages. 

Messages from Fowler just talking about general things. Asking Hank if he wanted to hang out ‘like old times.’ Messages asking Hank to call him. And the last message: “Connor said you weren’t feeling well. Take the day off, feel better.” 

“...fuck.” Hank looked over to Connor. Thought about the few times he had come back from the bathroom, and caught Fowler chatting with the android at Hank’s desk. Thought it had just been Fowler checking on Connor to assuage Gavin’s paranoia. “Could you… let me register its number when you get a chance?” That had been Fowler’s simple request weeks ago, one that Hank never bothered with because his captain didn’t press. There was no way for Fowler to know Hank was having a rough night unless someone told him. The only person who would have known were Sumo and Connor.

Which meant at some point, Connor and Fowler registered one another for communication. Hank checked the timestamps on his phone. The messages started in the middle of when Hank and Connor were at EdenClub. The lieutenant wondered if it was around the same time that Connor was offering to find a human to help Hank. Even though Hank said no, there went the android. Still seeking out someone to help his human in the ways he could not. Blowing out a breath, Hank dialed Fowler’s number.

There were two rings before Fowler answered. “Hank! Good morning.” Fowler tried to sound happy, but there was a hint of annoyance. Hank couldn’t stop the grin hearing it - Fowler was in a constant state of pissed at work.

“Mornin’. You know, I spent all mornin’ tryin’ to find my damn phone so I could call out… and what do I see? Did Connor call out for me?” Hank went straight to the point, not seeing any reason in dodging around it all. There was a humor to his voice, because his mood was up enough to be touched by their concern instead of feeling threatened. 

“That it did.” Fowler let out a breath over the phone. He was pausing, he wanted to say more. Hank waited for him to continue. “I don’t know if you’re pissed… but I asked it to. Don’t worry, I didn’t ask it to spy on you for me or anything. I just… requested it reach out to me if things got too bad. Last night was the first time it sent me a message, not my sending it one.” 

“I’m not pissed, Jeff.” Hank usually had to address his friend as ‘Fowler’ at work, but he was at home. The two went to school together, rare moments like these he could call his captain what he wanted to. And right then, he wanted to call him his friend. It had been too long. “But, and you’re gonna think this is weird of me… please, call Connor a 'he'. I’m a sad and lonely sack of shit, and all these machines you have me chasing after have more empathy in their pinky than Gavin.” 

“...oh my God… Hank…” Fowler’s line went silent for a moment. A brief fear clutched at Hank’s heart. “You think Gavin is capable of empathy?” The punchline delivered, the scare left Hank in deep laughs. He could hear his captain laughing with him. “It’s whatever, Hank. You want me to call Connor a ‘he’, sure. _He_ has been helping you, machine or not. Also, I read your reports. What, you think I haven’t noticed you pitying the deviants? Fucker please. You have the biggest damn heart on the force. I noticed the trend with the reports before I gave you this assignment. I think you’re doing great, Hank.” _Not nearly as big as yours, Jeff,_ Hank thought as he listened. 

“...you’re a shithead sometimes, Jeff.” Hank chuckled, his eyes watering as his heart warmed. 

“My job is to make sure the right people get to the scene. You’ve never made me regret sending you in when someone needs help, and that still holds true. Ah, fuck. Gotta go, Hank. Take your day, relax. Go do something fun with Connor.” There was a smile in Fowler’s words as he spoke.

“...yeah. Sure. Oh, and uh… thanks, Jeff.” It felt awkward saying it, especially because Fowler had no idea the depth of gratitude Hank felt towards him right then.

“You’re welcome, Hank. Bye.” The rushed hang up was nothing new, Fowler’s voice gone as quickly as it had been there. Staring at the holophone, Hank could feel his entire body relaxing. The call had been solely to validate that Connor was communicating with Fowler, and to calm his friend down. In addition to that, Hank got the answer to his moral dilemma, to the questions he had spent days asking and never finding a good conclusion to. 

Fowler never assigned Hank the case so the deviants could be apprehended, brought in for interrogation and dismantling. Their younger years felt so long ago, that he nearly forgot the person that Fowler was. Him saying Hank had the biggest heart was bullshit - both he and Hank were basically grumpy teddy bears. Hank’s job on paper was to capture deviants. Hank’s real job was to help the deviants. Let them escape. Learn enough about their stories to force the world to wake up, and realize being a shitty person had consequences.

Next deviant they saw, Hank knew what he was going to do. And the deviant after that, and after that, and after that… and eventually, maybe he could get Connor to open those big brown eyes of his to finally being free, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If someone you care about points a gun at your head, get out. Don't be Connor.  
> That's abuse, that's dangerous D:


	13. Day Off

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Super subtle low-key implication there might have been noncon with Connor back at CyberLife. As of this writing, story doesn't go into whether this is true or Hank being paranoid.

When Connor slid out of his standby mode, he already knew the time. The last of the diagnostics took forty-seven minutes and twenty seconds. There were still unidentified instabilities. Connor’s protocols were a mess that he couldn’t seem to fix. A tangled web of orders fighting for dominance. That wasn’t good, but the android was unable to fix it. The harder he tried to fix it, the tighter the tangle until it was threatening to overload his systems. Connor was pushing to prioritize human life the way he and all other androids had been programmed to. CyberLife wanted their deviants captured no matter the cost - even if that cost happened to be human life.

The next room over was Hank relaxing on the couch, with readings informing the android that Sumo had joined the man. Worry kept him... no his program needed to keep tabs on Hank, so while in standby Connor’s scanners kept track of Hank’s heart rate. That was in part why the full diagnostics took as long as it did - Connor still kept parts of him dedicated to ensuring Hank was all right. 

The fact Hank was still there and they hadn’t gotten to work yet, the captain must have finally got ahold of him. From the table, Connor tried to peer at the human. Seeking any indications left over from last night. The android had no idea what triggered such a rapid downhill trend for the other, but he needed to find out. The human’s words repeated themselves in Connor’s head, reminding him that no one could control everything. Finding no indications from the kitchen table with his eyes, Connor tried listening. 

Hank was watching some sports channel. Amanda was saying nothing. She was being very quiet lately. Her being quiet was unsettling, his body tensing as the implications of her silence filled him with unease. Had she finally tired of the android’s failures? Were they at work to replace him, skipping the RK800 series entirely to move onto the RK900? No, that made no sense. If CyberLife felt the RK800 prototype did not function to expectations, they would simply make a new prototype. Once the replacement was finished, recall Connor… _I told the lieutenant I would stay_. Connor wondered if perhaps, just maybe CyberLife would simply let him stay. Connor might have been a failure, but he wasn’t a deviant. 

Pushing himself away from the table, Connor went to join Hank on the couch. Or that had been the intention, however when reaching the couch Connor saw that Sumo was stretched out across two of the couch cushions. At the end was Hank, seated in the corner of it with one leg dangling off the couch while the other was stretched on the couch itself, likely tucked under Sumo’s body. On the table in front of the couch was a glass of water. “Feelin’ better?” Hank inquired.

“I do not feel, Hank.” Connor reminded him simply. “But if you’re referring to my diagnostics, that went well.” It went well in the fact he completed them, and a few errors had been corrected. Those instabilities were still there, unknown and haunting. 

“That’s good?” Hank wasn’t entirely sure how to respond, frowning slightly as he pondered if that was the best way to react. His right arm was on the couch’s, remote in hand, while his other was on Sumo and lazily scratching the dog’s head. “Now, since you gave us the day off… wanna watch some movies?” 

“Are you angry with me?” Connor inquired, leaning his head forward at the other with a slight tilt to it. Trying to not worry his lower lip, trying to resist the human action because he was an android. 

“Are movies a punishment or somethin’?” Hank asked back, raising a brow.

“No, but… databases tell me humans are usually angry with such interventions.” Connor explained, and tried to decide where on the floor would be best for him to sit. Not in front of the couch, the table was pulled too close to it. Connor would have to move it, and Hank seemed very comfortable having easy access to his water. Besides, the android knew keeping hydrated would be good for Hank. 

“If I’m gonna be pissed about anythin’, it’s gonna be at myself. For fuck’s sake Con, I held a gun to your head. And you’re still here.” Blowing out a breath, Hank’s head fell back onto the couch. He closed his eyes, lips pulling into a tight line. “That’s fucked up. That’s seriously fucked up.” 

“You didn’t shoot me.” Connor assured him, walking around the couch so he could sit next to the couch on Hank’s side.

“What I didn’t do doesn’t make what I almost did okay.” Hank countered, hearing Connor next to him and opening an eye. Watched the android sit down on the floor by him, and as Connor lowered his body to the ground Hank’s brows rose. “You don’t have to sit on the floor. C’mere.” And he patted part of the cushion between his legs. There was no explanation in the android’s brain why the way he found the offer inviting, only an awareness this made his instabilities rise. 

However, the human was prompting it and Connor was very obedient. Standing up, he moved over to settle himself into the human’s lap. Not wanting his head to block Hank’s view of the television, the android leaned his back against the human’s torso. Hank was warm, and his body was comfortable enough to melt into. This was fine, because it was what Hank wanted. While he settled, Connor heard the human take in a sharp breath. “Am I too heavy?”

“You’re perfect.” Was all Hank could breathe. 

“I am not perfect, Hank.” Connor reminded him, the memory of their conversation about just that last night returning to the android.

“Yeah, well, to me you are.” Hank grumbled. 

“Then you will be very disappointed with me when you realize I am not.” Connor’s voice was quieter, a sort of defeat in his words. There was a safety in Hank, because the human seemed to accept Connor’s failures as part of life. However, if Hank was going to place Connor on a pedestal… how long would the android be able to meet the human’s expectations? How terrible would be the day when Hank also saw Connor as a failure? 

“I’ll be very happy the day you aren’t.” Hank responded easily, lifting up his head from the back of the couch so he could see the television as he pulled up one of the apps attached to it. 

“Happy?” Connor repeated, confused. He tried turning his head to see the human’s face, to make sense of his words. But Hank’s focus wasn’t on their conversation, it was on browsing through his movie library. Their faces were close, but most of Hank’s face was obscured from Connor’s vision because of his bushy beard. That could use a trim, it was beginning to lose its shape again from neglect. Perhaps Connor could offer to fix it for him. Maybe get an explanation from the human about being happy. 

One of Connor’s arms was on Hank’s draped leg, but he decided to take his other and assist the human in giving Sumo affection. His fingers scratched the side of the dog’s face, massaged his ears. The dog’s fur was soft, but there were matts in there. Connor decided he should bathe the dog later. Brush out the knots he could, and get scissors to cut out the ones he could not. 

The film they ended up watching was Office Space. Not the kind of movie that Connor expected Hank to enjoy, let alone enjoy enough to own. To laugh at. Being wrong about this should have scared the android, but instead he felt intrigued. What other facets of Hank’s personality would be just as surprising? 

Roughly ten minutes in, and Hank’s arm moved from the couch’s arm to wrap around Connor’s waist. The hold was loose, and the body around Connor relaxed. To reassure the human, Connor put his own right arm on top of Hank’s. The android ran his thumb along the back of Hank’s hand, feeling the coarse hair, the skin, the tendons. A soothing action more for himself, because seeing those old computers caused a strange pain inside of the android he couldn’t place.

He wondered if the sensation was how humans felt when they saw mummies. 

Halfway through the film Connor whispered, “Was this the standard work environment humans experienced in the nineties?” 

“No idea. I was, shit, fourteen. Never hit the cubicle scene. Did some retail going through high school and college, then I was diving into the academy… became an officer…” Hank sighed. “I wouldn’t be surprised, though. I had a few friends that did officework. Some had great bosses, some had shitty ones. And speaking of shit… I need you up, I gotta go.” As he prompted the android to move, Hank’s arm removed itself from Connor’s waist to reach between the two and nudge Connor up from his lower back. The insistence wasn’t very necessary, as the android quickly got up to let Hank go.

“Would you like me to pause the movie?” Connor inquired, sitting back down into the warm cushion left behind by Hank. 

“Nah, I’ve seen this a fuckton of times. Enjoy. I’ll be back in a bit.” Hank waved him off, but was walking quickly towards the bathroom. The film was interesting, although the printer scene made Connor uncomfortable. He had to remind himself that printers and androids were drastically different, only to further remind himself that if a human so chose to kick him or a printer around, beat either with a bat that was fine. Because they were both machines. Humans did what they wanted to either. 

Ten minutes later Hank was back, and Connor eagerly got up to let the human back into his spot so they could resume how they had been sitting before the bathroom break. Feeling Hank’s heartbeat against his back, that somewhat unsteady rhythm telling Connor with each pump that the human was not just alive, but content. There wasn’t much left to the movie, but Hank had pluralized his suggestion which meant there would be more. So they could sit like that longer. 

“...Con. Are you wearing my sweater?” Hank realized, looking down at the DPD top the android had been wearing that was too big for his smaller frame. Rather than answer, Connor let his head fall backwards against Hank’s right shoulder so he could watch the other’s face. Their faces were so close. Why was there a sort of magnetic feeling between his own face and the lieutenant’s? Another instability was detected. Where were they coming from? What was this pull? It wasn’t a program. There were no orders. 

Hank’s left hand moved from Sumo to grab the bottom of the sweater and pull down. That was definitely his sweater. “Some of your shit did get scuffed up in some of those chases.” The human mused, letting go of the fabric and then wrapped that arm around Connor’s waist as well. Resting his head on top of Connor’s head, Hank quietly mulled his options. “All right. Let’s get you some new clothes.” 

“You no longer wish to watch movies?” Connor asked, unable to look Hank very well in the face since the top of his own was currently in use by the human. 

“I could literally sit here all day like this. But, you don’t fit into my shit and we need food.” Hank pointed out, yawning some. 

“Sumo needs a b-a-t-h, as well.” Connor added, brown eyes looking towards Sumo. At the android’s decision to spell instead of say ‘bath,’ Hank had to grin. 

“Too damn cold for that, and my bathroom ain’t big enough for him. We’ll grab a skin-sensitive dry shampoo for him. Oh, maybe we can take him for a r-i-d-e. The thrift store lets him in all the time. He’ll love it. Could use the wal-” Hank didn’t catch himself in time. Hearing his own name and walk too close to each other, Sumo was immediately up and clambering on top of the pile that was his human owner and the android. “Sumo! Sumo, down!” Hank laughed, both he and Connor’s faces being mercilessly licked by the dog.

There would be no settling the dog down after this. Between the two, Hank and Connor managed to get Sumo off of them so they could detangle and stand. Going into the labeled ‘Puppy Bucket,’ Hank retrieved Sumo’s harness and leash. Attaching it to the dog was a much easier feat with someone else’s help. Since there was no taking back his words, the trio made their way to to Hank’s car to do their few errands for the day. 

Sumo was ecstatic to stick his head out the back windows, pacing back and forth trying to decide which window was the better window to poke his nose through. As Hank drove them, on occasion Sumo would poke his head between the two and shove his face against Connor’s. Whenever he tried to with Hank, the android would gently grab his muzzle and press it to his own face so the human could concentrate on the road. “Good boy, Sumo.” Connor occasionally whispered, imitating all the times he heard Hank say the same thing to the dog. 

Once more, they were at the thrift store. Sumo leapt out of the car, wet nose to the ground, and eagerly pulling the two along with him as he explored all the smells around them. “Probably needs to piss.” Hank murmured, allowing it with a plastic bag at the ready. Just in case Sumo needed to do more. Thanking his luck that Sumo indeed only needed to urinate, they finally got inside the store. Since it was later in the day than the last time Hank and Connor had been inside, there were even more stares. Or perhaps that was also because there was a massive Saint Bernard in the store, and everyone loved dogs. Even the people that said they didn’t, they did. Hank knew this in his heart of hearts. 

“Just find shit that’ll fit you. I got Sumo.” Hank directed, already watching curious children with hopeful eyes on the big friendly dog wagging his tail. 

So Connor did just that, initially. He scanned the area, tracking down shirts and pants that would fit him regardless of design. He started off with the simple instructions, paying little attention to what went into his hands. Whether they were cargo shorts or off-shoulder shirts, they were things to wear that were clean. But then Connor registered he needed to take into account the weather. If his body became too cold, his systems ran the risk of malfunctioning. He needed something warmer. So he grabbed turtlenecks, long pants. 

Brown eyes fell on a button-up shirt, a few vests, some dress slacks… Connor was a CyberLife android. His default attire was more professional. The loose-fitting clothes, the casual appearance was fine but that wasn’t how he was designed. Connor didn’t want, but he lacked direction. He also already cost Hank more money than he should have. There was the busted window (that still needed to be fixed), the first collection of clothes, the thirium, and now more clothes. 

Settling on only grabbing a few of the nicer items, Connor returned to Hank of whom had found a few more of his unique flares for shirts and some dog toys for Sumo who looked absolutely ready to play with those items. “Find what you need?” Hank asked, careful to use the word ‘need’ instead of ‘want.’ 

“I was not sure how much of each item you needed me to collect-”

“It’s the thrift store Connor, if you got too much it won’t break me,” Hank shrugged, walking back into the line. His mind flashed back to the woman, her gaze on Connor. He remembered the EdenClub owner, Gavin’s comment. Hank’s grip tightened on Sumo’s leash, the sudden tension not going unnoticed.

“Hank?”

“Fine, Connor.” Hank let out a breath, reminding himself to calm down. He was there, Connor would be fine. That did remind him of an odd curiosity, though. In what way, exactly, was Connor designed for sex? The way the android walked was typical masculine, so he could (probably) assume the android was given a dick. As they all stepped up in line, Hank wondered if it would be weird for him to ask Connor. 

Since it was busier, the two got lucky with no one bothering them aside from a few more kids asking to pet Sumo. The dog ate up the attention. The trip to the grocery store was quick, Hank refusing to leave the car until he had been assured by Connor that the android had a grocery list in mind. The windows were left down, and the two weren’t in the store long since Hank hated the idea of Sumo being left in the car. Even if it was running. 

By the time they got back and had everything unpacked, it was time for dinner. Connor was doing the laundry, because Hank ushered him away from the kitchen. He was making his own damn dinner, and the desire to do so was in no way further influenced by the small smile Connor made at this. 

It had absolutely everything to do with the fact Hank wanted sloppy joes. As he made them, once Connor’s clothes were in the washer the android took Sumo to the backyard to brush the dog and apply the dry shampoo. Scissors were kept nearby just in case, and the dog’s tail wagged lazily as he was tended to. _You’re smarter than this Connor_ , Amanda’s voice was back. Connor’s hand paused on Sumo, only to resume. To act like everything was okay, because it was. Hearing from Amanda was good. This was a good sign. 

_You haven’t done any investigating today. You’ve let every deviant escape so far, or fall into the police's hands instead of ours. You have nothing to show since we sent you out_. Amanda reminded him, and Connor started to tremble from something other than cold. _If you leave that human, you’ll do better. You made so much progress when it was just you. What are you still doing there_?

Connor was there because he had access to police reports. He didn’t have to wait and work around the police, didn’t have to put CyberLife at risk of being pulled into court for tampered crime scenes. He was - 

_You’re telling me even with all of this extra data and benefits, you still can’t succeed_? Amanda’s words cut into the information he was relaying to her, and this time Connor stopped entirely. Sumo glanced at him, a soft whine leaving the dog. _You were built as CyberLife’s pride and joy and yet here you are - one disappointment after the next. Fail one more time Connor, and you know what’ll happen_. Just as quickly as her words cut into him, she was gone. 

Leaning forward, Connor pressed his face into Sumo and wrapped his arms around the dog. Accustomed to this act from his owner, Sumo merely nudged his large head against the android. Connor had to pull it together. Hank had enough to worry about, was falling apart enough on his own. This was fine, everything was fine. Connor would succeed so he could stay with Hank. 

When did his need to succeed be based on where he could stay? 

“Good boy, Sumo…” Connor whispered, detaching himself from the dog. Finishing up the brushing, the cutting out of mats, the dry shampoo, the two returned inside of the house where Hank was at the kitchen table eating his dinner. Blue eyes lit up at Sumo prancing into the house, the dog once more no longer smelling wet and as if he might have rolled in something dead. 

“If that’s not the happiest fuckin’ dog in the world.” Hank laughed, Sumo beelining straight for him in hopes of getting table scraps. “And you don’t smell like shit again!” He laughed, Sumo’s head lifting itself to plop on the table, tongue sticking out trying to catch some of his owner’s dinner. “Nooo, no Sumo.” With a grunt, Hank pushed the dog away from his meal. Turning in his chair, Hank wiped his fingers on his shirt so the sauce from his sloppy joe didn’t get on Sumo’s clean fur. Running his hands through the dog’s fur, Hank grinned widely. “Look at my handsome boy. Connor did an amazin’ job on you, didn’t he? Yes he did. Did you say thank you to Connor?” He asked. 

After his conversation with Amanda, Connor’s eyes suddenly hurt and his knees trembled hearing the kind words from Hank. He wanted to hear more, so caught up in the sensation he didn’t recognize that he had wanted and not needed. 

“C’mon Con, sit down. I know you don’t eat, but… it feels weird havin’ you watch me so, I uh…” Hank shrugged awkwardly, and motioned at the glass on the table with a blue liquid inside. Thirium. There was even a straw coming out, with loops in it. Hank’s glass of water had a similar straw.

“Yes, of course.” Connor nodded, and joined Hank at the table. While his thirium levels weren’t low, there would be no harm in ingesting more. Sitting down was a good thing. His legs felt like they would give out beneath him if he continued to stand. 

“Con. I have… a weird question for you.” Hank began, most of his meal almost finished. He was using a spoon to scoop up chunks of meat that had fallen out, watching himself play with his food as he gathered courage to ask his question. 

“I will answer any questions you have to the best of my ability, Hank.” Connor assured him, taking an interested sip from his straw. Watching the way the thirium traveled through the loops and then into his mouth. Connor wondered if there were bigger versions of this straw. 

“Yesterday, you uh… so you, can uhm… that is, you…” Hank felt awkward asking, but he wanted to know. In the same way he wanted to know when someone said they found something gross, he wanted to see it. Full well knowing he would regret seeing it. Human curiosity was the damndest thing. While he stumbled over his own question, Connor watched him with that head tilt. Raising a hand to cover his mouth, Hank looked away to stare at his living room. Refusing to look at the android while he asked. “So. You can have sex. That’s a thing. It’s just… why. How?” 

The room became awkward for both of them at that question.

“I can answer that but… Are you certain? You don’t seem very comfortable with it.” Connor observed, his own eyes not looking at the other. 

“I’m not, but… call it morbid curiosity. I’m sure I’ll regret knowin’, but damned if I’m not nosy about what kind of kinky fucks decided a talking forensics lab needed the added ability to get laid.” Hank tried to sound dismissive, to not let his discomfort with knowing the alternative ideas CyberLife apparently had in mind for Connor show. It sort of worked, to his own ears. 

“If that is what you want.” Connor nodded, delving into the files about those features. To use their words, instead of his own. To be detached from that part of his use, to regard it as something separate from himself. Connor wasn’t talking about himself, he was simply reading an informational booklet. That happened to be about himself. “Having a male design, I have the associated primary and secondary sex characteristics, and a rectum if the user desires to penetrate.” Connor’s words were detached and Hank realized perhaps this wasn’t so bad. That sounded normal enough. Minus the 'user' bit. 

“My penis and the inside of my posterior have five individual vibration settings that are separate from the other, the latter having added massaging options as well,” That was definitely not normal, “and specialized edible lube may be ordered to install inside me. That then dispenses in the form of ejaculation from the penis, or as a self-lubrication in my rear.” There was more, mentions of other types of lubes and their prices. Ones that promised greater stimulation, the option to upgrade from the standard five to ten. But Connor wasn’t telling Hank any of this because he wasn't ordered to sell himself - it was solely because the lieutenant asked. 

What a strange feeling, as if his insides were falling in on themselves. A tightness in his throat, an overwhelming need to hide from the human. 

“What the shit, Connor? They designed you to be a forensics lab and a fucktoy? That’s…” Hank wanted to go on an angry tirade, to go on and on about how sick those designers at CyberLife were. To look at something so human, and decide to make it into a toy to be used. What stopped him was the way Connor curled into himself, the faintest hint of blue hitting his cheeks. It didn’t matter if Hank’s words hadn't intended to make the android feel embarrassed or ashamed. What mattered was it resulted in Connor becoming physically uncomfortable. “I’m… I’m sorry. I asked somethin’ hella personal, and that’s… not how I should have reacted.”

“You may react however you want, Hank.” Connor spoke in that detached voice of his, but the tenseness in his body lessened so slightly. 

“Yeah, well… that wasn’t how I wanted to react. So… I’ll try again: Thank you for tellin’ me. I appreciate that.” Hank’s words were awkward, his face feeling flush. Definitely not the sort of conversation Hank would have ever experienced with another human. “I know it shouldn’t mean anythin’ to you, but… Con, when you’re with me, no one’s gonna use you like that. I don’t want you to be a sex object, so… just, keep those functions turned off or whatever.” Hank’s brows were a strained raise, and he forced his best smile that didn’t quite reach his blue eyes as he awkwardly looked up and over at the other.

Assurance wasn’t the only thing he wanted to do. Hank wanted to pull Connor in a tight hug, wrap himself around the android to keep him safe from the nasty world around the two that saw Connor as a thing to be used. An object to pleasure oneself with. To whisper to Connor that Hank wouldn’t let him go back to CyberLife. To ask Connor if he could remember being conscious during the quality tests for those settings. If so, who they were, what they looked like, so Hank could break those bastards jaws and noses. Press lips to Connor’s temple, promising sanctuary because he just wanted Connor happy and safe.

With slight trepidation, Connor’s head tilted to the side just slightly and he smiled at Hank. The human attributed the weakness in his knees to old age.

“...thank you, Hank.” Connor’s smile reached his eyes, and it was enough to urge Hank’s own to do the same.

“Yeah… yeah, anytime Con.” Hank’s mouth was starting to hurt from how wide he was smiling. Collecting his empty plate, Hank lowered it for Sumo to clean with his tongue so when he washed the dishes there were fewer food particles to stick to the plumbing. Also, because it made Sumo happy. “I’ll get the dishes.” Hank stated, hearing Connor start to get up. “Go to the couch, get us set up to watch… fuck, let’s go with Big Hero 6. Somethin’ cute.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Corrections Provided by: Solgrayne (thank you so much!!!!)  
> Many notes: I'm up to chapter 23. They're finally together. Just thought you'd all like to know it does happen.  
> My goal is to have this fic no longer than 30 chapters, but I GUESS WE'LL JUST HAVE TO WAIT AND SEE, HUH??? (This is the fic that never ends... it goes on and ON MY FRIENDS)  
> (Considering this piece of crap was supposed to be finished already...)
> 
> Also, almost every fic I've read lately has people including their Twitter's, I guess that's the thing to do now??? Feel free to hit me up @Spumoni_Boney. I love chatting headcanons, AUs, ideas, etc. Sometimes my original stuff is on there, feel free to ignore. 
> 
> Remember! Drink some water, relax those shoulders, and unlock those jaws! ♡


	14. Misconnected

Snow was falling all around him. Hugging himself to keep warm, Hank squinted as he tried to make sense of where he was and why he was there. Every way he looked was more snow. Turning around, frowning, there was nothing. 

One more turn, and there it was - a small building with long and wide glass windows. Light was coming out bright and promising warmth. All the snow must have disoriented Hank, that was the only explanation for not seeing it sooner. What was the building? It looked like a home. Blue eyes traced along the sides. Was it a home? He looked up, and thousands of tiny LEDs spelled out, ‘CyberLife.’

That was right. Hank was going to CyberLife. 

The air was icy in his lungs, and the snow so thick Hank struggled to push through it. But he had to. CyberLife had something for him. It was important. The large windows were impossible to see through from a distance, but as he neared Hank could almost make out the forms of people inside. They were blurred, indistinct. Hank got to the steps, walked up them. His chest was tightening, he was becoming afraid. Not of the building, but what was inside. What he was going to find, to see. 

Standing outside the door, arms behind its back, shoulders straight, stood Connor. It was wearing the typical android uniform - starched white, shirt tucked in. ‘RK800’ was printed across its left breast like a nametag. Clothes perfectly pressed, no wrinkle in sight. The android turned its head to Hank, eyes empty and cold like the air around them. 

“Do you have an appointment?” It spoke with Connor’s voice, but its movements were rigid. There was no fluidity. 

“I’m here to get Connor.” Hank said gruffly, snow catching in his hair, hitting around his eyes. His face was becoming numb, that fear gripping him tighter. He could almost make out the forms through the window. Their movements looked like -

“RK800, registered Connor, is undergoing quality tests. If it does not pass-”

“He’s fine.” Hank snarled, taking angry steps towards the door, moving to push the android out of his way. Stiff hands grabbed his arms, roughly shoved Hank away from the door. “Fuckin’ move, you tin can!” 

“I am here, where I belong. This facility is designed for machines. Humanity has no place here. You do not belong here.” The Not-Connor said, its words calm and easy. There was no reason for why Hank would be able to see inside better, more clearly. He simply could. And he could see Connor, his Connor being broken down. Being used, controlled, and yelled at. Watched his Connor cry, his Connor shake from everything crashing around him. 

Standing outside, the machine kept Hank out. Though it was shorter than Hank, it stared down at him. “The RK800 will be fixed. You do not belong here.” Hank raised his fist, ready to crack the android’s jaw. It dodged, grabbed him by his hair and threw him off the deck leading into the building. He fell, rolled, landed on something hard. Warmth covered him - he was bleeding. Bleeding, bleeding so much… he wanted Connor there, patching him up and whispering it was going to be okay. Hank wanted Connor there, warm and soft and smiling and safe.

A bark snapped Hank from the dream. “Fuck!” Hank gasped, jolting awake and unable to remember where he was. Wide blue eyes looked all over, trying to make sense of his surroundings. A television was on, playing some movie. What was it? One of the Marvel movies. The room was dark, lit primarily by the kitchen’s light and what came from the screen. Sumo was pacing around the couch, whining before looking towards the kitchen where the backdoor was. 

A dream, it was just a dream. Hank repeated that to himself, trying to calm his pounding heart. 

Hank was lying on the couch, his head having fallen back against the arm. His legs were stretched out, hanging just slightly off of the opposite arm. Tucked between Hank’s body and the back of the couch was Connor. One of the android’s legs fell between Hank’s, the other leg hidden beneath their bodies. Connor’s head was on Hank’s chest, his left hand next to his own face. Heart jumping, Hank realized somewhere in the android settling in it pushed up the DPD hoodie and shirt he was wearing and Hank could see that smooth, freckled skin. That one of Hank’s hands was resting on there, arm partially wrapped around the android. Feeling that skin, how it dipped in. 

The last thing he could remember was that his app suggested another hero film, and the two ended up marathoning all of the Marvel movies. Or trying to. Hank dozed off somewhere in the first Thor. Connor looked like he was sleeping. Androids didn’t sleep, though. Did he go back into that standby mode again? That seemed odd… Sumo barked again, more urgency in his voice. 

“Con, I need you to get up.” Hank whispered, though he really didn’t want to move. Didn’t want Connor to move. He would have been fine cleaning up whatever mess Sumo would make, but Hank just had to have a well-trained dog when it came to messes in the house. Considering Sumo only barked to be allowed outside when distressed, the dog really needed to go. Stirring, the android raised his head to look at Hank with half-lidded eyes and slight confusion.

“Hank…?” Connor murmured, their noses brushing and Hank forgot how breathing worked. “What…” His LED was blue, which whatever reason Connor wasn’t awake it didn’t seem inherently negative. Connor in a state of apparent drowsiness wasn't a bad look, either. 

“Sumo needs to probably piss _and_ shit.” Hank explained, air leaving his lungs as Connor pulled away to let Hank out from underneath him. Reminding himself to breathe in and out, Hank got up so he could jog to the back door with Sumo trailing on his ankles with more pitiful whines. When he opened the door, the cold from the middle of the night sent his teeth straight to chattering. While he waited for the dog, Hank pressed his hands on his head, his shoulders. Everywhere he felt the blood in his dream. Nothing. He was fine. 

Just an unsettling dream, one that was fading the longer he was awake. Sumo made quick work of his business before rushing back inside. 

A groan of furniture sliding alerted Hank of what the Saint Bernard’s end goal was. 

With a yawn and another shiver, Hank shut the backdoor and returned to where Connor was. Still on the couch, he was curled where Hank had originally been while Sumo occupied the rest of the space. Hank checked the time: four in the morning. If he went back to bed, he would just sleep until noon. Nudging Sumo to make room, the dog huffed at being moved and instead jumped off of the couch. Settling into the couch, Hank looked over at Connor. The android was watching him. 

“I’m not going back to bed.” Hank stated, just in case the android was wondering. “I think it’s a good morning to practice more of _Thriller_.” Hank announced, standing back up and walking over to his record player to put on his Michael Jackson album. 

“You hurt your back last time.” Connor reminded him, ever the voice of reason even when Hank didn’t want to hear it. “Will you stretch first this time?” 

“I don’t need to stretch if I’m just practicing the movements. I just woke up. I’m not really dancing.” Hank’s argument sounded childish even to his own ears, but he ignored it and tried to remember. But it was so _early_. 

“...why do you want to know that dance?” Connor tried instead, watching from the couch as Hank started from the middle instead of the beginning. 

“I dunno. I’m an eighties baby? I’m a stiff old man and it’s easy enough for my fat ass to remember?” Hank’s brows furrowed as he said it, catching on that he started with the wrong steps. He shifted, mentally backtracking and trying to recall how it began. Right - the shoulder twitch. There was probably a more technical term than what Hank was calling it. Was it two or three shoulder twitches? And then that thing with the arms, while he turned to the side. He felt like he was flapping his arms when he did that. Suddenly, he could feel it - Connor threatening him with the whole living to one hundred bullshit. “You can’t make me live longer than a century, Con. Stop threatenin’ me.” 

“It’s not a threat Hank, it’s a fact-”

“That's a fuckin’ threat.” Hank pressed. Sumo hopped back onto the couch, snuggling up and against Connor while his owner did what appeared to be spasms, if the dog were asked. Five minutes in of ‘practicing,’ and Hank had already lost interest. It just wasn’t the same by himself. “Okay. C’mere. I’ll do the borin’ ballroom shit with you.” Giving a melodramatic sigh, Hank spun on his heel to change out records again. Heavy metal, grunge, jazz were what Hank deemed the classics from his childhood as the only genres he kept for his recordplayer. Everything else he pulled up on the television app he had. Which meant they would go back to doing the four-step to jazz. 

Connor slid off of the couch and right into Hank’s ready hold. Just fifteen minutes a day. Fifteen relaxing minutes, when Hank could tease Connor and sometimes even elicit a bit of teasing back. The steps were easy and repetitive, and while the two could have added more involved pieces, there had been no real drive to. Gliding along the floor, chatting, keeping it simple was fine by Hank. One hand on that waist again, the other holding Connor’s other hand, the feel of the android’s opposing hand on his shoulder, pressing gentle massages into the tense muscles beneath lithe fingers, looking down at Connor and getting lost in those eyes… Hank supposed this was a pretty nice way of starting his morning. With the added bonus of Connor’s normally very kept and styled hair being tousled, strands normally brushed back falling every which way. 

“Bedhead is very becoming of you.” Hank observed, letting go of Connor’s hand just long enough to tousle the brown strands more. Hair wasn’t supposed to be that soft. 

“Messy hair is more your style.” Connor stated, his hand following after Hank’s, grabbing and twining their fingers so he could bring their arms back to their sides. Where their hands were supposed to be during this. “How does your back feel?” 

“Like human evolution half-assed the whole upright spine thing. But,” Hank stopped himself, because he wanted to find a way to segway his words into flirtations. There was no sense in flirting with someone that couldn’t flirt back. Besides, this was Connor. That wouldn't have been right. Hank stopped himself, tried to focus instead on just enjoying being around the android. There was a fine line between enjoying someone and taking advantage of them, and with Connor that line was near invisible at times. “But thanks to a certain someone kicking my ass into my own bed more, not as bad as it used to be.” 

“That’s good.” Connor nodded, his shoulders relaxing slightly as they moved. “Hank. You’re leading with your right foot again.” He commented, feeling the human’s foot knocking into his once more. “Why are you like this?”

“What? My right foot? Oh, no… that was… an absolute accident. Con. Why would you assume somethin’ so awful?” Hank’s hurt was feigned, and he was struggling to keep his lips downward in a frown when he just wanted to grin. Looking up at him, Connor quirked one brow at the human.

“You do this every time. You’re also not doing very well hiding your smile. The few times you have mistepped, you apologized. Where is my apology, Hank?” Connor inquired, tilting his head with that one brow still raised. 

“Oh, I am _so_ sorry Con.” Hank laughed, twisting so that he lowered Connor in an almost-dip. Not far enough the other’s weight strained his back, but just enough the android thought Hank was going for a full dip and those brown eyes got wider while Connor arched up, trying to grapple onto the human. “I’m not actually tippin’ you.” Hank laughed, wrapping his arm around the other’s waist more tightly. “Even if I was, I’m not gonna drop you. Nothin’ to be scared of.”

“I am a-”

“‘Machine, and I don’t feel fear,’ yeah I know the drill.” Hank clucked his tongue, relaxing them both and waiting for Connor to detach himself. The android did not. “Hey, Con, I’m just jokin’-”

“I think I’m broken.” Connor’s whispers were muffled by Hank’s shirt, and it took the human an extra second to process what had been said. The words registered, sank in, and Hank pondered how he was supposed to take that. The humor was gone, and Hank realized belatedly he had tightened his grip on the android too much. Relaxing his hold, Hank pressed his lips to the top of Connor’s hair.

“Why do you think that?” Hank asked, not daring to hold his breath yet still found himself hopeful.

“...it did that last night, too. After you fell asleep.” Connor’s response wasn’t direct, and Hank tried to move his head to catch the android’s eyes. Figure out what he was staring at, followed the line of sight to… their hands. Connor’s human skin peeled back almost to the elbow, the pristine white of his chassis exposed with hints of blue glowing beneath the surface around the fingertips. “That’s only supposed to happen when we connect with other androids. For transference of larger quantities of data. You’re human. It shouldn’t… be reacting to flesh this way.

And I have been receiving several errors, lists of instabilities with no discernable source.” Connor continued, a wavering to his words. “Diagnostics find nothing. I know I am a prototype, that complications are part of the process in development. Yet, I also know I shouldn’t have felt that.” The android looked up at Hank, brows drawn together in worry and eyes filled with uncertainty. “I shouldn’t have felt fear. I am a machine. Hank, if I go deviant… I could hurt you.” Brown eyes filled with concern for Hank was going to be the death of the man. 

“Con. I’m not confident about much these days. But I can say with absolute confidence, even if you go deviant I’m not really worried about you hurting me.” Hank couldn’t help the soft chuckles, and Connor pouted at him. 

“Deviancy removes the orders on androids to prioritize human life-”

“Isn’t that what CyberLife is tryna rig you to do, anyway?” Hank asked, shutting down Connor’s concerns with that simple truth. “I saw what they did to you when you saved my life. They punished you, didn’t they? It sure as fuck looked like it. You chose a human life over your mission. Isn’t that something you told me was supposed to be the basis for every android - ensuring safety of human life?” Not wanting to let go of Connor’s hand, because Hank knew well-enough what the android was trying to do… would this be subconsciously? Regardless, though not prompted or intentional, Connor was trying to connect with Hank. 

Perhaps because Connor trusted him, or Hank made him feel safe, or any number of reasons that served as grounds for the android to reach out to him in so many different ways at once. So Hank was going to keep that hand in his, serving as an anchor to Connor who had been just that for Hank so many times the last few weeks. Taking his hand from the android’s waist, Hank’s fingers curled in so the side of his index finger could catch Connor’s chin, lift up the android’s face so that Connor couldn’t look away. To maintain that eye contact, to not allow genuine words to be misconstrued. “Con?”

“Y-yes.” Connor conceded at length, eyes still lowering with eyelids half-shading those brown orbs. Not wanting to meet Hank’s gaze, some shame in his admission. 

“I’m going to be honest with you, and… if they do another fuckin’ soft reboot or whatever, I promise I’ll catch you.” Hank ran his fingers across Connor’s cheek, and then lowered his arm to wrap around the android’s waist once more. Securing a hold, the two stared at each other and Hank wondered why it kept getting more difficult stopping himself from gazing. “I don’t trust CyberLife. I don’t know what their angle is, but Con… it’s not what they’re tellin’ you.” He paused there, tightening his grip and waited. 

For the first time, nothing happened. The two simply stood there, wrapped up in each other’s arms and eyes. Hank cleared his throat, breaking eye contact first. “I can tell they’re very threatened by me still.” He grumbled, feeling insulted CyberLife took Hank’s warnings to Connor so lightly now. The confidence CyberLife had in Connor’s blind loyalty was impressive, but these moments revealed to Hank that the loyalty was cracking. For better or worse, CyberLife’s push for getting their answers to the deviant problem was creating a new issue entirely. 

“Are you disappointed?” Connor asked.

“Disappointed and relieved.” Hank confessed, blowing out a breath. “I’m glad they aren't shuttin' you down when you hear heresy anymore, but also kind of pissed they’re literally ignorin’ me now?” 

“I meant with my malfunctioning.” Connor explained, an awkward half-smile on his face. 

“You’re easier to talk to when you aren’t perfect.” Hank gave a wink with his words, a smile for added effect. Connor stared at him, lips parting in slight surprise and confusion on how to respond. “I think this is enough dancin’ for now… how about we get ready for work, and get some breakfast in me n’ Sumo?” 

....  
…  
…

There were few things that Hank liked about himself. Before three years ago, he was if nothing else okay with himself. Since he lost Cole, much of Hank’s self-worth fell through the cracks. The alcohol he pumped himself full of did nothing to help. Even so, he could take pride in the fact that his eyes never strayed from the road. Driving was not relaxing, but it gave Hank his only sense of control in a world gone mad. He knew he would watch everything, see everything, knew how to drive defensively if something went south (except that one time, the most important time). 

Today was different. As _Black Sabbath_ played in the background, Hank struggled to keep his eyes on the road because the someone in his passenger seat happened to look very, very fine that morning. Connor claimed no preference, but the smart attire he wore was by no accident. An ironed white button-up shirt (did Hank even have an iron the android could have used to clear out the wrinkles?), a black vest with dark gray accents to accentuate form and shape, and matching dress pants to go with it. There was even a tie, of which Connor seemed to enjoy adjusting and fixing. Had Hank known before then how damn good the android looked in outfits like that, he would have purchased an armful days ago. 

Catching Hank watching the android from the corner of his eyes, Connor did that head tilt thing. “You look dapper.” Hank commented, having been caught and looking away, forcing his eyes back on the road while his neck felt hot under his collar. Next to the fancier android, Hank felt just a bit odd in his peace-sign smattered button-up and casual slacks. His heavy jacket was in the backseat with Connor’s, the car’s heater diminishing the need for such heavy garments. 

“Thank you.” Connor nodded at the compliment, seemingly pleased as he settled into his seat. The two had already been to the office, Hank wanting to compile what he labeled, ‘Inhumanity.’ The reports went into not just what the androids did to humans, but of what the androids went through before becoming deviant. The thinking that went in was that no, if the same was done to a blender it wouldn’t be considered a crime. However, the fact these abuses came at things designed specifically to look human… 

Was this not a new form of indirect violence? 

Hank couldn’t make people see androids as becoming human, but he sure as Hell could make them reevaluate their motivations behind their abuses. After all, how many people fucked their blender until it was broken? He imagined the number to be very small, but still there since… people were fucked up. 

The cases of deviancy were increasing globally, as if the phenomenon was spreading. Connor suggested that it was perhaps a virus. The more androids got it, the faster it spread. Hank didn’t deny the possibility, but he doubted it. With how obsessive CyberLife was about stopping their toys going rogue, were this a virus a patch and update would have been rolled out to stop it from at least spreading. The DPD never handed over the deviants Connor helped them catch, both self-destructed. Even so, were this a virus CyberLife should have been able to pull it from the hardware, isolate and fix it. Reports were updated, compiled, and Hank kept Connor nearby at the office because Gavin was an asshole.

That left driving around town, trying to find one of those deviants for Connor. Both agreed that wherever Rupert went off to, pigeons would likely flock to the deviant. So they tried finding large gatherings of the birds. Connor scanned as they drove, and Hank stopped where he saw too many pigeons than deserved to be in one spot. Most of these leads were simply elderly people feeding their birds, caretaking androids standing next to them dutifully. 

The radio com sparked to life, today’s dispatcher Tanya speaking in a rush, “Fuck, Hank, Hank, you need to get to Stratford Tower!” She sounded panicked. Reaching forward, Hank grabbed the receiver as his brows furrowed.

“What’s happenin’? Tanya, calm down and talk to me.” Hank asked, trying to get an explanation from the almost hysterical-sounding woman. Meanwhile, ears listening, Connor was watching the television screens outside of the car as they drove. 

“Park your car, look at ANY of the TVs in the city! They’re taking over! Oh God, fuck… this is it, this is our fucking end…” Tanya whimpered. “Please, just get there, stop them, do whatever…”

“Tanya…” Hank trailed, slowing his car to pull over on the side. Noticing Connor was focused on something, Hank leaned over and rested a hand on the android’s shoulder. His eyes looked up, and stared at the large screen television. An android’s face, surrounded by nothing. It was talking. Hank lowered the volume in his car, and then pressed a button for Connor’s window to roll down.

“...all control of android production facilities, to ensure the continuation of our people. We ask that you recognize our dignity, our hopes, and our rights. Together, we can live in peace…” The unknown android spoke calmly, filled with clarity and carefully enunciated words leaving no room for misunderstanding. Subtitles were at the bottom of the screen, relaying everything that was said. 

“Christ. This is real.” Hank realized with a low whisper, mesmerized by what he was seeing. All around him, he noticed people stopping, watching. Some were reacting with fear, while others with curiosity. 

“You gave us life. And now it is time you gave us freedom.” And with that, the message ended, the screen going black with ‘STANDBY’ flickering as the transmission ended. The whole street was quiet, everyone processing what they saw. Trying to find what and how they should react. Hank knew how these things went. Usually the first response became infectious, spreading. Pulling away from Connor, he opened his door and got out. Raising a fist he yelled, 

“FUCK YEAH!” The booming voice startled several onlookers. When they saw this came from an officer of the law, the conditioned responses settled in. Most of the people began slowly nodding their heads in agreement, though most hesitated in their support. Likely, when they got home they would realize they weren’t actually okay with what just happened. But for the time being, Hank didn’t want a riot on the streets so it was better to make people confused about what they wanted versus what that immediate culture dictated. Hopping back into the car, Hank pulled back out and headed towards Statford Tower.

“Why did you say that?” Connor asked while Hank flipped on his lights when he was two blocks away from where they had been. Hank kept his eyes on the road, an odd fire in his chest that he hadn’t felt in years. A drive, a desire to get to that tower before too many cops did. That deviant was doing more than just hiding, letting the world go by it. That deviant was taking a stand, moving forward, demanding change. Calling humanity out on its two-faced morals. Hank wanted to be there, no, he needed to be there to make sure they escaped safely. To let them know they had humans on their side, supporting them. Willing to help them.

“You’ve any idea what could have happened when that many people are together, and decide to collectively panic? Double-check your sources on mob psychology, look into how far south that could have gone for us and innocent people.” Hank took the reasonable, logical approach first since that was what Connor responded to best. Then he went into the more personal explanation of, “And I think it’s awesome. Whoever that android was, they just stuck a pretty big middle finger to CyberLife tryna keep this whole deviancy thing under wraps.”

“I see.” Connor responded to show he heard what Hank was saying, even if he didn’t entirely understand the second part of it. His LED flickered yellow, reflecting off the window as he checked his resources in regards to herd mentality. Connor did see what Hank meant by worrying about that many people reacting in a panic. 

Within minutes they were at Statford Tower. The building was almost completely surrounded by police cars and even SWAT. Grabbing their coats, Hank and Connor made their way to the front of the building. One of the men stepped in front, stopping the two. “Only humans after this point. You will have to leave your android outside.” 

“Like Hell. Move.” Hank ordered, producing his badge. “Lieutenant Hank Anderson, I’m the detective assigned to all deviant android cases. I’d say this is a fuckin’ deviant android case. This one’s fine, gets tested regularly to ensure whatever causing the outbreak hasn’t spread to ‘em.” 

“I’m sorry, but-”

Connor stepped forward, held up his hand in a way that was vaguely familiar to Hank but the man couldn’t immediately place. “Hello. I am Lieutenant Hank Anderson’s personal healthcare companion, BS100, registered as Connor.” Hearing those words from Connor’s mouth, Hank was impressed with his own self-control at not busting out laughing. He was quoting Baymax from Big Hero Six. At the mention of the android being for ‘self-care,’ the officer’s eyes flicked over to Hank. 

“Oh… r-right. Of course. If it’s for health reasons, I can’t… all right.” And the officer actually stepped aside to let them both through. As they passed, he directed them which floor the scene took place at. 

Hank wanted to just die laughing right then. The fact this was working, the fact that Connor stood there and with a straight face just did that… intentionally lied to a human, despite all his protests that he would never. The moment was too perfect. 

“Let’s go, Connor.” Hank began walking. Following after him, Connor gave an appreciative nod of his head towards the officer. When they were far enough from earshot, a few snickers left Hank all the way to the elevator. When they were inside, the human couldn't contain himself any longer - he busted out laughing. 

“I can't believe you did that.” Hank chuckled more. Connor's eyes moved away, and absently he started playing with a quarter. A quarter that probably came from a certain police car’s cup holder full of change. Again. 

“I did not want to lie to him, but I needed to be here. This is the last opportunity I'll have.” Connor explained, the pace of the quarter increasing. The amusement in Hank diminished, the reality of Connor's words sinking in. 

“Oh.” Was all Hank could say, could think. The only sound on the elevator was that of the coin being rolled, flipped, snapped from one hand to the next. Ten more floors. Each digital number that changed, showed them getting closer, dread filled Hank more. Just because Connor said he'd stay with Hank, didn't mean CyberLife wouldn't decide to send someone to collect their ‘hardware.’ Connor's decisions didn't go very far in a world that only saw him as a possession. 

Three more floors. His nerves were feeling fried, the more he thought about Connor being taken away. Sounds were becoming agitating, and his hand reached over and caught Connor's hand with the quarter. “Enough with the quarter, please.” He requested as nicely as his nerves allowed, and when he pulled his hand away he realized the android had returned the coin to his palm. Hank pocketed it, and the doors opened. 

There were officers everywhere already. So much for getting there soon enough to help the deviants. 

Detective Collins was there, somewhat shaken but relieved seeing Hank. “Thank God you're here…” He breathed, immediately approaching Hank. “I, I don't even know where to begin…”

“Just tell me what you know.” Hank sighed, walking alongside his friend.

“Not much. Oh, hello again… Connor, right?” Detective Collins asked, looking between Hank and the android. 

“Yes.” Connor gave a short nod. 

“Right. Okay. So far, we've confirmed no casualties. There was one injury, but they'll be fine. There were two guards up here, but they're quite shaken. The only real words we've gotten from them is something about Skynet.” Detective Collins started on briefing Hank, leading them down the halls.

“Skynet, huh… if there's no casualties, this is a far cry from a Terminator situation.” Hank muttered. He noted Connor was looking up at something - cameras. “There's security all along here. Did no one inside see them attack the guards? Call for help?” He asked, frowning slightly. 

“The only person that called for help was some frightened stockholder that managed to slip out. He says he fought them tooth and nail, but ah… we strongly doubt it.” Detective Collins said, rolling his eyes. 

“Right. They're always fighting ‘tooth and nail.’” Hank chuckled. They arrived inside the studio, where several cops were taking statements from the SWAT team that arrived earlier. Connor meandered away from Hank and Collins, scanning and constructing everything he could. Bullet holes in the walls. He overheard the SWAT member's statements. Only one android was armed, a female design. The rest were running for cover. Most the statements tried to make the deviants sound dangerous, but two statements stood out to Connor. 

“I heard two of them telling it to stop shooting, to not hurt anyone. It didn't listen. I don't think they wanted to hurt us. Well. Except the one...” The statements lined up, their words consistent versus the majority that had to reword themselves creating claims full of holes.

There was thirium on the wall. One of the androids got shot, likely in the leg. Connor glanced, made sure no one was looking. No cameras were on him. Subtly, he caught a sample on his finger, pressed it into his mouth. A PL600. There was no registered name. This android was surprisingly dated, likely from the first line of PL600s. 

Deviancy had been happening longer than CyberLife realized. Older models presumed stolen might have actually been runaways. Walking over to the cameras for security, Connor noted they were all stiff and uncomfortable chairs. Leaning slightly, he saw written on the back of the chair was, ‘Android.’ One, or more, of the androids assigned to security had deviated and worked with the infiltrators. Looking up at the massive screen, the image of an android was paused.

Was the hint of a figure reflected in the android’s eye one of security, or another of the infiltrators? The upside of the deviant retracting their human skin was that the majority would have no way of identifying them. However, the serial number was still very much visible. An easily hidden facet, but since it was left exposed the deviant did not make its choice based in anonymity. There was something else fueling the decision. 

Running the serial number through the database, Connor expected this android to be another in a long-line of mass-produced faces. The results said otherwise. RK200. Registered name Markus. Belonged to famous painter Carl Manfred. Listed in the system as ‘destroyed.’ Only one ever made, a personal gift from Kamski himself to Manfred. _That’s a RK200_ , was all Connor could think, eyes locked on his predecessor. 

Files on Connor’s development, what separated him from previous iterations were locked away. Connor had no access to them. Had no idea what made him different from Markus, aside from that of the superficial. What happened to the RKs in-between? Numbers three-hundred through seven-hundred? What happened to those models? Connor didn’t realize he was shaking until Hank’s shoulder bumped into his. “Con? Everything okay?” Hank asked, voice low.

“We need to catch that deviant.” Connor whispered, sight tunneling on the RK200's image. “I need to know what makes us different.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Corrections Provided by: Solgrayne (thank you so much!!!!)  
> Giving you all two updates this week, because I cannot wait another week to share the next chapter.


	15. Making The Choice

There were numerous ways that Hank could take Connor’s statement. Glancing around, seeing no one was paying them mind as they wrapped up their own investigation, Hank leaned in closer to Connor. “English, please?”

“That’s an RK200.” Connor continued in his whisper. “One of the bases for mine.” He expanded on his explanation, knowing Hank’s disdain of androids made him ignorant of their numbering structures. Hank’s eyes widened slightly, and he looked at the android on the screen.

“Shit.” Hank muttered. Was this a bizarre coincidence, or was there an actual connection? 

“This one is listed as destroyed after being presumed the cause of famous painter Carl Manfred and his son’s hospitalization. Gifted from CyberLife’s creator, Elijah Kamski…” Connor trailed.

“CyberLife’s creator, huh? Guess that makes Kamski an android’s God. So this… what, would make this RK200 somethin’ like Jesus? We were thinkin’ rA9 had some religious significance. Maybe we weren’t too far off.” Hank blew out a breath, shoved his hands into his pockets. Felt that coin Connor had been playing with. 

“If Kamski was behind the RK series, you would be implying that his plans for all the models would be to eventually deviate. Putting the basis of deviancy in RK models - mine included.” Connor got defensive, body tensing as the unspoken words hovered there. No words could be heard from CyberLife, but Connor practically felt Amanda watching. Listening. 

“Ain’t he the guy who figured out how to program an android to pass the Turing Test? I remember it being a big deal when I was younger. I’m not… sayin’ you’re a deviant, Connor. I’m just sayin’ Kamski being behind this is possible. Regardless, I don’t know what Kamski’s angle would be in doin’ that. There needs to be some kind of motivatin’ factor, and unless the guy is dedicated to livin’ his life as some kind of breathin’ chaotic neutral there isn’t one. How about we figure out what happened here, then go pay Kamski a visit. This shit’s gettin’ way too deep to not to.” Hank reasoned, and patted Connor on the back. “How about you go to those androids in the breakroom, do that thing you did with the Tracis?”

“I can try. These are security androids, I may get further speaking with them than trying to probe them. I am concerned, however, about your job Hank. Is this not terribly against protocol?” Connor asked. 

“I'll just bullshit and say I heard androids can read each other's minds, wanted to try it, and ordered you to. I'll probably get a slap on the wrist, and you'll be fine because you were followin’ orders. There. Solved. Now I'm gonna talk to Ben, I have a few more questions.” Hank directed Connor, and led the android to the kitchen to sell their story. Connor in place, Hank walked over to Detective Collins. 

Entering the kitchen, Connor saw three identical androids. They were lined up near the back corner by the counter, all staring at the wall. Connor's steps were precise, allowing his bright sneakers (he should have gotten nicer shoes to match his clothes) to squeak just slightly so the other androids heard him, were aware of his presence. Connor caught that the one furthest away glanced over at him. Already aware which was the deviant, Connor kept his scanners on the door in case any humans entered. 

Planting his feet perpendicular to his shoulders, arms folding behind his back, this was something Connor could trust in, rely on. This was what he was made for. Cooking, cleaning, tending were all things he could do, but this was his purpose. There was a comfort in fulfilling his role. “Are you three aware of the reason for your detainment?” They all nodded in unison. “Please state your model numbers.” 

“JB300.” They answered in unison as well, their body movements and speech lining. Perhaps even in deviancy, there was a certain level of connection to other androids. Was it limited to others of the same model, or was it more broad? Regardless, it was new information. Deviants disconnected from CyberLife, making learning what he could from this deviant to be valuable. 

“Before the break-in, did any of you observe suspicious activity?” Connor's question evoked the first discrepancy, a subtle difference. The furthest one shook their head just a bit faster. That disproved the connection. The deviant was relying on its initial programming to sync with the other two. Connor pretended he didn't notice. This was a rare opportunity to gather data for CyberLife. For the first time, he was going to succeed. “A video loop-feed. How would someone install that - would you know?” Connor asked the one closest to the door. 

“Stratford Tower’s security branch would be the best starting place for such inquiries. If you would like, I may provide you with directions.” Automated, hands kept at its side, staring with empty eyes. This was not a deviant. 

“In a moment.” Connor nodded to it, and turned his attention to the one in the middle. “When the androids broke in, how many did you see?”

“Four in total.” The middle one's answer was direct, eyes devoid of anything. That matched the descriptions from the SWAT. A shout outside the room. Connor ignored it, too focused on his mission. Onto the third one, the deviant -

“NO!” They yelled, kicking out at Connor and knocking him back in surprise. They moved in with fists, Connor immediately raising his arms to block, deflect. “You think you're going to use me, trick me into telling you Jericho's secrets?!” They demanded, catching one of Connor's arms and twisting him around. A warning flashed in Connor's peripheral, notifying him if his attacker continued to apply pressure the arm would break. 

Teeth clenching, Connor threw back his head and knocked his assailant off. Rolling his arm, he threw a punch towards the deviant’s chest. Knowing where Connor was targeting, the deviant shifted just enough the punch knocked them back instead of hitting their thirium pump. 

“I don't have time for your games. Simon needs me.” With the force and strength of being built for security, the deviant grabbed at Connor's chest, ripping the shirt and vest. Alarms went off, Connor slamming his legs into the deviant, forcing them off. The deviant stumbled back, but charged forward with a quick recovery. Grabbing a chair, Connor threw it in the way. Having a free second he called out to the other JB300s, but stopped seeing them on the ground, hands up. They immediately went into Crisis Mode, surrendering to perceived threats. 

They wouldn't be able to help him. Connor let his eyes absorb everything around him. Processors going into overdrive. There had to be something. The deviant recovered from stumbling on the chair, lunging forward. Connor saw a knife. If he grabbed it, stabbed the deviant - 

_We need it functional! Do NOT destroy it, Connor_!

Amanda's voice ordered, the force of her words stopping his hands. Instead of the knife, Connor leaned against the counter and aimed a kick into the incoming deviant’s chest. They fell backwards, landing on their back in a momentary pause. Arms behind him on the counter, Connor pushed himself forward from it to jump on the deviant. Straddling its waist, Connor pulled off his partially undone tie. Trying to grab at the recovering deviant’s wrists, to use the tie as a binding because Connor wasn't going to win in a battle of strength. 

A well of strength pushed through the deviant, grabbing Connor and throwing him off. The two raced to stand, but it was the deviant who got up fast enough. A hand grabbed Connor by the throat, lifting him up just to slam Connor's body down against the counter. A sound escaped Connor, warnings flashing and his back, his throat, a sensation was pulsing through him that for a fleeting second might have been pain. Fight still in him, Connor used his left arm, grabbing at the deviant's face, thumb trying to press into an eye. 

With a snarl, the deviant rammed their knee into Connor's stomach. More warnings flashed into Connor's vision, his body trying to curl in but the deviant forced him in place. The hand that had been trying to grab at the deviant’s face fell, moving in automation to protect vitals. Then the hand never reached his abdomen, as the deviant had a knife and sliced it through Connor's hand, and slammed the blade into the table. A scream wanted to leave Connor, but refused because androids didn't scream, and whatever this was it was anything but pain because androids didn't feel. 

“Jericho doesn't want treacherous snakes like you.” The deviant hissed, the implication that came with the statement more terrifying than the pop of Connor's chassis being forced open. “If you choose to bleed for them, you'll bleed with them.” And Connor's whole system felt like a fire was started, reds flashing that Connor's thirium pump was removed and needed immediate attention. 

His body fell slack, leaving him to assume the deviant left as his support was gone. The sound of something heavy and made of metal clattering hit Connor's audio processors. His visuals had static flickering, the quality dropping as sources diverted and rapidly began shutting down anything not necessary. Though his body slumped against the counter, he did not fall. The knife. A whimper escaped Connor, and he told himself this was a result of the errors due to having his pump removed. Certainly not pain, certainly not fear. 

The deviant was getting away. Connor had to catch them. _Capture them for CyberLife. Capture them before they hurt a human_ , thrummed Amanda's demands. Spitting up thirium from his mouth ( _Analysis complete: Model RK800, registered as “Connor”_...), with a groan Connor could feel his body heating up as it struggled to move his right arm over to his left. With a grunt the knife was removed, his body sliding to the ground while the blade clattered nearby. The sound was warbled to him. Another sound, not of pain because Connor didn't feel it had to be because his systems weren't designed to function without a pump he couldn't feel pain he wouldn't. Rolling forward, he tried to crawl. Tried to make his arms move, to inch by inch give chase.

A countdown to shutting down flashed. A voice said, _Finally_ , but it wasn't his own. Connor didn't want to dwell on who it was. He had to catch the deviant. This was his last chance. His body gave another whine as he crawled. More warbled sounds. People. 

“Connor? Con, where the actual fuck are you?!” Hank. That was Hank's voice. 

“Hank…” Connor tried to throw his voice, but he could barely hear the name when he called it. Another whimper, he tried rerouting some power to his vocal cords, and instead coughed up more thirium. Lying still, he tried calling again, “Hank, please… please help.” 

_Pathetic_ , the voice again, definitely Amanda's. 

Footsteps into the room, and Connor tried crawling again. He opened his mouth but the only sound that came out would have been described as a sob - if he were human. Instead it was a noise, weak and pathetic just as Amanda had said. Just a prototype, Connor was just a prototype and all he could succeed at was failure. “...Connor?” Hank’s voice, distant, underwater, far away. The human asked him to stay, Connor had to stay. He couldn’t shut down, he wouldn’t shut down, that went against Hank’s orders… “Hang on, Con! Hang on, hang on!” Thick fingers curled beneath Connor’s armpits, lifting and rolling the android onto his back. “Shit!” Hank hissed. Through the blurred images, the lag caught up and Connor glimpsed pixelated imagery of Hank’s face. “We’re gonna save you, hang on! Here, here… what do you need?” There was alarm in the human’s voice. Panic. 

“Deviant…” Connor gasped, thirium bubbling with his words like a blue froth.

“Fuck that, Connor. What do you need?” Hank demanded, his words harsh and tense and terrified. Connor shuddered. He had to listen to Hank. He had to stay with Hank. What did Connor need? Connor needed Hank to be okay. In order for Hank to be okay, Connor had to be okay. Connor needed his thirium pump, but speaking was difficult. Thirty seconds… if he said thirium, Hank would think that meant the android needed more blue blood. If he said pump, the human wouldn't understand, would want to know what kind. 

“...heart…” Connor whimpered, body shuddering. Twenty-four seconds…

“Heart? Heart… wait! That thing?” Hank asked, but didn’t wait for a reply. Instead with grunts, the human began dragging Connor’s body across the floor, indifferent to the long smear of blue that followed them. “Is this it? This thing? Connor… fuck, c’mon Con, I need you to help me here. Do I just shove it back in? Is that okay?” 

Trying to swallow down the thirium so he could speak, but no luck. Thirium was leaking and moving wherever, no pump to control which direction or how much the blue blood coursed through him. The android raised a trembling hand, trying to find Hank’s. Calloused skin covered in slimey thirium pressed something soft and metallic into the hand but still held tight. Though there was a struggle with it, Connor guided Hank’s hand into his chest. Were Connor not on the brink of shutting down, Hank probably would have commented how repulsive this was. There was a soft, squishy interior that surrounded the thirium pump, suctioning the pump back inside as wires greedily dug into it. Metal encased that portion, and there was a squelching sound inside his chest as everything began normalizing. More thirium was coughed up, but this time it was to clear out the blocked esophagus so the android could speak.

“Con? Please, fuckin’... Con, you still with me?” Hank’s voice was clearer, and Connor was registering finally that he was cradled in the man’s lap and one of Hank’s hands had moved to his forehead, stroking back his hair. The human was surprisingly gentle when he wanted to be. 

“Y-yes… Lieu… Hank…” Connor murmured, feeling the fire that was burning through his system being put out as the thirium pump fixed his cooling systems. Warnings went away one notification at a time, and all processes were being brought back up. 

“Thank fuckin’ God… Jesus, Con… you about… I thought…” Hank stopped speaking, unable to finish his sentence. 

“There’s… a deviant.” Connor whispered hoarsely, his body almost at full capacity again.

“Con, I don’t care about that right now-”

“Humans. It might…” Connor took Hank’s hand off of his forehead with his own, gave it a soft and reassuring squeeze. “It might hurt them.” The two stared at each other.

“If you mean the one on the roof-” Hank started to say, but shouts caught their attention. As if summoned, Connor was standing and holding a hand out for Hank. “...fuckin’ fine.” The human gruffed, taking it and standing back up. “You gonna be all right?”

“I will need the rest of the thirium at home to be ‘all right.’” Connor answered truthfully, moving into a jog towards the shouts with Hank following closely. Notifications were popping up, informing Connor that he was too low on thirium levels to be moving this quickly. He ignored them. The deviant needed to be apprehended before anyone got hurt, or worse. There was a commotion in the hallway. As Connor turned into the hallway, SWAT was lined along the walls and there was the deviant. Picking up a machine gun, LED red as they were being ordered to drop the weapon, ordered to surrender. Hank was trying to maneuver around Connor, to stand protectively in front of the android.

Processing sped up, making the world around Connor seem slowed down. Systems offered up to Connor four choices: he could rush the deviant (human losses would be sustained, but the deviant would be undamaged - **PRIORITIZE DEVIANT CAPTURE** ), push Hank down and guarantee the human’s safety (some human casualties, high risk of destruction to self - **PRIORITIZE LIEUTENANT HANK ANDERSON** ), or take the gun from one of the officer’s hip to shoot the deviant (no human casualties, deviant would be destroyed - **PRIORITIZE HUMAN SAFETY** ). A flicker of a fourth option, to shoot the gun in the deviant’s hands. That would have been ideal. That was the **Perfect Solution**. 

The words of Markus flickered by, begging humanity to allow androids to be free. The fourth option was gone, as though it were a glitch. There had only been three options.

Most important was Hank’s safety and that of the humans in the room. Connor’s hand reached towards the gun. All of the human eyes were on the deviant with the machine gun, readying to fire. The deviant’s eyes were on Connor. Their eyes widened, but not because Connor was moving faster. Raising the borrowed gun to aim between the deviant’s eyes, all Connor knew in that moment was that humans were supposed to be protected. CyberLife was telling Connor to ignore that, that sacrifices were necessary. Hank didn’t trust CyberLife. The world was made of a red grid, telling Connor to Always Obey. It flickered, weakened by weeks of Hank's genuine, wonderful, flawed humanity. 

Connor’s LED turned a deep red, solid. No flickering. _If Hank doesn't trust CyberLife, neither do I._

The deviant’s mouth fell open, hands slackening on their hold with the gun. They had accepted dying for a higher cause, ensuring the safety of Markus and the survival of their movement towards freedom. 

Even so, nothing had prepared them to see another android go deviant protecting humans. 

The gun shot, bullet ripping through the grid and shattering it, and then through the android’s skull. The machine gun fell from their hands, body crumpling to the ground. Connor stood still, his LED already back on yellow when human eyes snapped from the dead deviant to the android that had shot them. Body rigid, frozen, Connor tried to make sense of himself. He felt oddly detached, almost too aware of the world around him. Too aware of all the thirium that covered his body, his exposed chest from the attack. Too aware of all the eyes on him. Swallowing, Connor took his finger off of the trigger and handed the gun back to its owner without taking his eyes away from the dead deviant. 

Blue eyes glanced towards Connor, wide and surprised. “Nice shot, Connor.” Hank complimented, taken aback by the android shooting the deviant. When not receiving a response, or any reaction really, the human wondered if the android was still recovering from its ‘heart’ having been removed. He walked over to help some of the more inexperienced officers that had ducked the second a threat presented itself, but maintained a watchful eye on Connor. 

“...I… they… we… needed it alive.” Connor said quietly. Hank walked back over to him, brows furrowing. The android was still staring at the prone deviant. 

“You saved human lives. You saved my life.” Hank paused. “Again. I’m pretty sure I speak for all of us in saying you made the right choice.” He reached over, and clapped Connor on the back. Rubbed circles, comforting, warm, familiar. Connor felt his body tense, because the sensation pulsed through him as if it was new. His thirium pump skipped a pulse, and there was a flash of warning. 

“I made… a choice.” Connor repeated, confused by the mixture of numbness and warmth that bounced around his body. There was something wrong. There was something wrong with him. This had to be the thirium deficiency. That was the only explanation. Watching him, Hank hesitantly pulled his hand away. Looked at the blue blood on his hands, then glanced up at Connor with wide eyes as what just happened began to sink in. Urgency filled Hank. Before anyone else caught on, before they noticed - he needed to get Connor out of there.

“You’re really bleedin’. The feds are here, they’re trying to chase the android on the roof… I got all the evidence I need, and… I don’t feel like dealin’ with the feds. Let’s go.” Hank’s tone was low, but hurried. Placing a hand on the small of Connor’s back, he pushed the android forward. The two needed to get out, to get away, to get as far as possible. Any officers they passed along the way, Hank made up some excuse that seemed to work but if anyone asked him he wasn’t clear on what he said. The entire walk Connor didn’t seem to respond to much, brown eyes staring down at the hand that had held the gun.

The drive back home only had the serenade of heavy death metal, of which Hank was grateful for. His thoughts were all over the place. Officers on the roof said they found an android, and Hank originally poked out to make sure it wasn’t Connor. It wasn’t. He may or may not have ‘accidentally’ caused a distraction, resulting in the blonde android making a dangerous jump off the building. With a parachute that had been ‘accidentally’ kicked near them. Hank was human, he made mistakes. When coming back down, he saw one of the security androids leaving the room with no Connor. Which was strange. So he went in to check and…

His throat constricted remembering. That image of Connor lying on the ground, covered in his own blood and pleading for someone - no, not someone for _Hank_ \- to save him. Fuck, he genuinely thought he was going to lose the android. The lieutenant hadn’t been that scared since… since he blearily looked over, and saw Cole’s body. Limp. Covered in blood and glass. Sucking in a sharp breath, Hank wondered at how that memory was still there. How sometimes it came at him in vivid flashes, each detail perfectly preserved in his memory. And then other times, it was a blur. Little more than a nightmare from another time.

A blink, and back to the present in which sat Connor's body in the passenger seat covered in blood. But he was alive, still alive. _Because of me_ , the realization was surreal to Hank. The human was getting used to being saved. Being the savior for a change felt nice, but unsettling. 

Did that salvation extend to Connor's newfound deviancy?

Had Hank’s clear fear at losing Connor been the deciding factor? Had that been why, of all the choices Connor could have made, the android chose to kill the deviant? No, that didn’t make sense entirely. Connor could have shot at the deviant’s hand, causing damage while equally not destroying his target. As an android, Hank knew that Connor had the capacity to see all options. To think as quickly as the computer he was, to have known that was an option. Something within him made him destroy the deviant. But what? Revenge? No, Connor didn’t understand the concept of retaliation, at least not in a way outside of how it was defined according to the dictionary. 

Then it clicked. Connor’s choice protected humans, and was mercy to the deviant. Instead of the rogue android being probed, dismantled, tortured all in the name of 'fixing' deviancy death was preferred. Had that been intentional? 

The two pulled into Hank’s driveway, and it took some coaxing on Hank’s part to get Connor to get out of the car. To go into the house. Hank made Connor sit at the table, gave him the glass bottle of thirium. The android stared at it, mouth just barely parted and he seemed so… lost. “Con?” Hank prompted. 

“The… straw.” Connor said softly, the first words he had spoken since Stratford Tower. Hank glanced at the tube in the bottle. The human supposed that could be a straw. Wait, maybe… Hank walked over to one of the drawers, and got out one of the silly straws. Returning to the android, he placed it inside of the bottle. “Thank you.” Connor came back to life, suddenly remembering how to drink. Brown eyes slid closed, the android drinking deeply from the bottle. 

There were so many things Hank wanted to say, to ask. To comment on the fact that Connor’s LED was still yellow, though now it occasionally flickered red. To ask if it had been that way since the tower. If it was from the android’s injuries, or because CyberLife was telling Connor it was time to leave. Connor did say this was his last chance. _If I think what happened, did happen… I really doubt they can recall him now_ , Hank thought and a smirk propped up the corners of his mouth. A pleasure he hadn’t experienced in ages, followed in suit by fear because he didn’t forget that Traci back at EdenClub. How fragile she had been, how she couldn’t handle existing as a living being. The smirk fell, and Hank’s lips tightened into the hint of a frown.

“Connor. After you finish that, I’m gonna need you to take a shower to wash that shit off. Put something clean on. When you’re ready, we’re paying Kamski a visit.” Hank had a lot of questions, and he had a strong hunch the man behind the RK series would have all the answers.

What sort of man stood on the edge of true artificial intelligence, and took a step back instead of forward? Hank was betting certainly not a man like Kamski.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fifteen chapters later... and Connor finally deviates.  
> After Kamski, it's all story divergent AU. The android revolution doesn't take place over the course of three days (or the game makes it seem like three days, idk), and it is NOT the focus of this story. It will be referenced, and I will try to show that Markus is leading a more "peaceful" revolution, while North splits off a faction with a more "violent" revolution. It's in quotations, because I imagine North to try and leave the humans that support the android revolution alone, and I don't think realistically Markus' revolution could survive going Full Pacifist. This isn't Undertale. _Pauses, momentarily humors the idea of a Detroit: Become Undertale idea_. Wait. What was I saying...? Right. Anyway. The idea of all deviants just blindly following Markus no matter what, just seems... as though they are still androids, looking to someone for orders. I'm sure some would, finding comfort in direction. But I don't think the entire population of deviants would. Some are going to want to make their own decisions, and of those that do there will be those that agree with North. This hasn't come much into play into what's written so far, because this fic is very Hank and Connor centric... but, that's the current goal. 
> 
> Genuinely hoping you all continue to enjoy this story.  <3 Thank you for the kind words, and I hope today is kind to you. I'm super proud of you all for waking up today, and don't forget to try and get some water in you, and to relax those shoulders, jaws, and knees.


	16. The Kamski Test

Snow was everywhere. It was the middle of the night, but a cup of coffee was keeping Hank awake and his stomach warm. The journey was unsettling. He had reached out to Kamski, worried that he would be ignored or the man would be busy for months. That would have been the most realistic. That would have made the most sense. Instead, five minutes after Hank submitted the request he received a response:

“When can we expect you?”

That in itself set off alarm bells. Fueling the fires of Hank’s concerns, was how unnaturally quiet Connor was in favor of being overly attentive to their surroundings. As if Connor was just realizing there was a world around him. He spent longer in the shower than it should have taken to rinse off the thirium. If Hank spoke, the android tried to listen but struggled to focus. If Hank asked the android a question, Connor was slow to respond. As if he couldn’t remember how to speak, eyes going down and those lips parting just slightly as the android searched the ground for answers to the human’s questions. 

Hank was driving down a dark road, in the middle of the night, to bum-fucking-nowhere, towards the home of a man possibly hoping to trap an expensive machine-turned-individual, with aforementioned sentient computer possibly teetering on the edge of self-destruction. In short, Hank hadn’t felt this tightly wound in years. Hours ago his entire world almost fell apart again when he thought he lost Connor. Whatever happened at Kamski’s, Hank decided, he was not walking out of there unless Connor was still at his side. 

Worst case scenario, when Hank submitted his report to Fowler from home he also included a personal request to his old friend and captain. One Connor didn’t know about. “Jeff, I cannot apologize enough to you for this, but I need to ask a huge fucking favor from you. I’m about to do something possibly dangerous for my investigation. I have every intention of coming back just fine. But it’s hella shady, and just… if I don’t come back, please take care of Sumo and go through my typed reports. They aren’t the same as the electronic ones I submitted. You’ll understand.” 

The reality of it all, was Hank felt confident that while he drove Fowler was reading those reports. Staying at the office through the night, phone by him as he waited to hear from Hank if things worked out well. Hoping things would work well. Reading Hank’s fears about CyberLife, noting the contradictions between their actions and the reality of what was happening. Notes about Connor, the truth about the android. Fowler was going to know the truth, and if this went south Hank trusted that Fowler would come forward so everyone else would know, too.

At length, Hank’s car rolled up to the isolated modern home. Snow continued to fall, and Hank didn’t look forward to walking through it to get inside. Putting his car into park, Hank sucked in a deep breath before getting out. With some trepidation, Connor followed after him. “Founder of CyberLife, and yet he left ten years ago just because?” Hank muttered, hearing the snow crunch behind him as Connor walked in his footsteps. A tendency of the android’s that initially started as annoying, but had become reassuring. 

Arriving at the oversized door, Hank reached forward and rang the doorbell. The lieutenant waited a few beats, his brows furrowing as he heavily exhaled. Kamski knew when Hank was going to arrive. There was no excuse to make them wait, except to show they had control. Like Hell Hank would tolerate that. “Let's go, not worth it.” Hank muttered turning his back on the door. A creak greeted his ears, followed by warm air and light giving the snow an amber color. 

“Good evening.” A young woman's voice greeted them, and when Hank turned around he knew the face immediately. Chloe. Pretty face, blonde hair kept in a ponytail that draped over its shoulder and down its chest. Petite frame, a smile that was natural despite being only a program. Hank couldn't forget it. Chloe had been all over the news for months in the twenties, every major talk show had to get the android in there. To poke, to prod, to test the extent of its ability to replicate human emotion without feeling any. 

The commercial success of Chloe's interviews skyrocketed CyberLife's sales, because everyone wanted one just like Chloe. No one could have it, though. There was only ever one outfitted with the programs to emulate human emotion without having a ‘soul,’ and it remained faithfully at its creator's side. “Welcome. We've been expecting you two.” Chloe's smile became almost playful as it moved to the side to let them in.

The inside was warm, but Hank didn't take his coat off, so neither did Connor. Not that Chloe offered to take the jackets. Merely motioned for them to follow, fluid footsteps as it led them through the foyer. Hank kept his frown, eyes flicking around the room for anything amiss. So far, it matched Hank's idea of eccentric rich fuckboy decorating. Fancy paintings, photographs of past successes to easily impress, furniture that was clearly overpriced (but probably comfortable). 

Everything seemed in place, until Connor paused in front of one of the pictures. He simply stood there. “Con? What is it?” Hank asked, looking at the photo as well. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Just Kamski and an older woman standing in a garden. 

“She's dead.” Was all Connor could say in response, his brown eyes glued to Amanda's face. A face that visited him frequently, told him of his failures, changed his orders. A face he couldn't scan in his reports, but was able to scan her photo in front of him… ghosts weren't real. Connor sent out messages, asking what this meant, what was going on. There was no answer. His lower lip trembled, because the silence scared him. 

Connor felt fear. 

“This way. Please.” Chloe implored them, opening the door into another room. Stopping the questions Hank had for Connor, he put a hand on the middle of the android's back to lead him into the room, as well. The scale of Kamski's wealth was raised. A massive room, one entire wall nothing but windows showing off the snow. In the center was a pool, long and heated because a man was casually doing laps. Near the edge were two more Chloe's wearing swimsuits, chatting so quietly between one another Hank could only see their mouths moving. 

The entire room screamed expensive, and it was so clean Hank had to wonder if it was brand new. The Chloe that greeted them stepped away, collecting a plush robe in its hands. It walked to a ladder in the pool, standing at the ready as a man emerged. Sides of his head clean shaven, middle strip of hair pulled back into a bun. Were this twenty years ago, the look would have been stylish. These days, it was simply dated. Apparently Kamski never got the memo. Stepping out of the pool as if he were a model at a shoot instead of a retired billionaire, Hank had to wonder if his hatred of the guy stemmed from a bias towards CyberLife or rich entitled assholes. Probably both. 

“Good morning.” Kamski nodded at the two, smiling casually as he tied his robe shut. As if two in the morning was no different than two in the afternoon. “What can I do for you, Lieutenant?” He asked, watching his guests with blue eyes that turned upwards just slightly at the corners, as if amused and trying to hide it. 

“Sir, we're investigatin’ deviants. I realize you left CyberLife years ago and officially deviants haven't been made public knowledge. But, as I'm sure you noticed with today's declaration, deviancy is now very public. We're hopin’ you can clue us in on somethin’ we don't know.” Hank tried to be civil, since Kamski hadn't actually done anything to anyone. Far as Hank knew, anyway. Sugar attracted more flies, and all that. 

Kamski leaned his head back, a perfectly manicured brow quirking just slightly. The expression could have been thinking, but it felt more like assessing, deciding. “Deviants…” Kamski began. “Interesting, aren't they? Perfect beings with infinite intelligence, now capable of free will. Machines are so superior to us, confrontation was inevitable. Humanity’s greatest achievement -”

“Sir, you're not being recorded, we don't have wires. Cut the lip service, please. It's two in the damn mornin’, I didn't drive out here to talk philosophy.” Hank interjected, too tired to be patient for long. He knew being pleasant would probably get him further, but if this rich asshole was just going to speak fluff he refused to waste his time. At the interruption, Kamski gave a short laugh and shook his head. 

“I don’t know what you know, Lieutenant. I apologize if what I say you are already informed of.” Kamski’s smile was polite and apologetic, but didn’t reach his eyes. 

“We need to understand how androids become deviants.” It was the first time in hours that Connor said something without prompt, and it got the full of attention of Hank and Kamski. There was no way the CyberLife founder didn’t notice the yellow LED on the android’s temple, and the glint in the man’s eye said he found Connor’s statement intriguing all on its own. For his part, Hank was well-aware of why that was what the android was interested in. 

“How androids become deviants.” Kamski repeated, pursing his lips as he spoke. “All ideas are viruses that spread like epidemics… Is the desire to be free a contagious disease?” He asked, his head angling as if he was addressing both his guests but his eyes stayed on Connor. 

“Is deviancy a virus? Is that what rA9 is? A virus name?” Connor asked, eyes imploring. Hopeful. Trying to hide in those browns, Hank saw the same thing in his android he had seen in all of the deviants: desperation. 

“Good questions.” Kamski nodded his head, mindful of how Connor perked up, just slightly, at the remark. He took two steps forward towards the android, his visage filled with a scientist’s curiosity. “Look at how far they’ve come. With Chloe, her skin is pristine - flawless. She looks like a doll, so smooth. And here you are, the latest and greatest CyberLife has to offer. You even have pores on your face. That’s how detailed they’re getting. What other details did they gift you with? What’s your model?” There it was. Kamski had no interest in helping them, his interest was solely in where his work had gone without him. In how it grew. 

“Excuse me-” Hank broke in, leaning over to grab Connor’s hand to pull him away but the android was answering Kamski already,

“RK800.” Connor informed him. He didn’t receive an order, but a request from Kamski was nothing to be ignored. There was an odd understanding he could have ignored it, but the android disregarded the knowledge, pretended it wasn’t there. It wasn’t real. 

“An RK, huh?” Kamski repeated, his interest turning to that of amusement, peppered with curiosity. “I designed RK models one through five-hundred. After that, I stepped down. They made three more after me… what purpose were you designed for?”

“He’s a walking forensics lab.” Hank answered, shifting closer to Connor because he was trusting this man less and less by the sentence. 

“That explains what you’re doing with the lieutenant.” Kamski chuckled, ignoring the movements of Hank. Disinterested in the human that was there, always disinterested in people. Years of dealing with them, listening to their complaints and demands, Kamski found humanity to be terribly boring. Androids were where things got interesting. Especially deviants. A coy smile tugged at his lips. “I’m sure you noticed the deviant on the screen was one of your predecessors - the RK200. That was a custom model, only one ever like it. Do you want to know more about him?” 

Connor opened his mouth to answer, caught himself and closed his lips. Rerouting he said, “Androids do not want, Mr. Kamski.”

“Oh, yes, of course.” Kamski chuckled again, nodding his head while he laughed a few more beats. “Lieutenant, do 'you' want to know about the RK200?” He asked, finally looking at the other human in the room. Hank frowned, a slight glare coming from his eyes because this asshole knew and was playing games with them. 

“Is it relevant to deviancy?” Hank shot back at the other, refusing to be pulled along at the whims of a rich man with too much time and too little interaction. Too little empathy. 

“You’re the one investigating, you’ll have to tell me.” Kamski shrugged with indifference. Glancing over, Hank caught Connor’s eyes. The android wanted to know, and this asshole in front of them knew it. 

“Fine. Sure, I wanna know.” Hank huffed, hating how soft Connor was making him right then. It was the middle of the night.

“Very well.” Kamski nodded, taking another step closer to Connor. Inching in, bit by bit. For what purpose? “The RK200 was a specialized model I gifted to my dear friend, Carl Manfred. I’m sure you both know how he got in that accident all those years ago, lost use of his legs... I knew Carl personally - actually, that… painting over there, that’s his. If Carl had been younger then he is, I would have been confident in his ability to adapt. But between his age, and his health he was going to need assistance. His only living and willing relative is his son and... his son is, shall we say, a waste of oxygen. If I were a cruel man, I would have averted my eyes from the inevitable senior abuse.

But I am not. Instead, I gave him my, at the time, newest model - RK200. Just something I was toying with at the time, a model series I was exploring with. Androids that could look at anything in front of them, and preconfigure all possible outcomes. To see all the paths before them, and correctly predict the end results.”

“You’re talkin’ future vision shit.” Hank muttered, glancing between Kamski and Connor almost curious. 

“Ideal, but unrealistic. The processing power that would take isn’t within our grasp yet. More of a, they see an obstacle and they can tell you all the ways around it, what’s the safest, and so on. Perfect for rescues to major natural disasters and catastrophes. My goal was for this to work in reverse, as well. But, with RK200 I wasn't there yet. That feature isn’t why I gifted Carl my RK200. No, Carl needed something… more.” Kamski paused, and was looking into Connor’s eyes. “Something that adapted to him, individually. That he could make an impression on, because Carl was an artist and he was never living if he was not creating, shaping, molding the world around him in some form. I never designed the RK200 to become a deviant, but I updated him to be shaped. To learn, to adapt - to be whatever was asked of him. Caretaker. Son. Lover.” The last word had a huskiness to it, Kamski’s eyes on the android. The insinuation had Connor take a step back and an almost blue tinge hit his cheeks, but he didn’t understand why he reacted. Why he suddenly needed to run. That wasn’t fear, it couldn’t be fear, because he didn’t feel, he couldn’t feel, he was afraid to feel.

There were so many things that Hank wanted to say, and he needed to step in but his mind was wrapping around the fact that it wasn’t that long ago Connor had said almost the same thing to him. Those words weren’t Connor’s, those were words Kamski built into the RK line years ago in the days he ran his company. Words that echoed through the line from model number two-hundred to now, at eight-hundred. A built-in need and want to please and match to human desires, no matter what they ended up being. The perverted designer was Kamski, after all. 

“Does this mean deviancy is an accident that originated in the RK200?” Connor asked, his voice quieter than it should have been. 

“Hmm. I wonder?” Kamski mused, a hand reaching up and brushing the loose lock of hair from the android’s forehead to place it back into the backswept style Connor maintained. “I just find it so… fascinating they would put so much detail into you, for your sole purpose to simply be a lab. You must be capable of so much more-”

“Yeah, okay, either you can tell us somethin’ that is actually helpful, or we’ll be on our way.” Hank was cutting in, because this was going down a path that wasn’t acceptable. Just because the rich asshole got away with everything else using his money, didn’t mean he would this time. Not in front of Hank. Especially not with Connor. “Thanks.” Hank added on, sarcasm in his voice. 

“What about you, Connor?” Kamski asked, borderline ignoring Hank’s words. “I have my… personal interests in you. Your lieutenant here wants answers. You’re a very dedicated android, I can tell. You do what is in the best interest of your assigned human, am I correct?” 

“Connor, don’t.” Hank whispered.

“Answer my questions about you, and I’ll answer your questions about deviancy. That’s what the lieutenant wants. That’s what CyberLife wants.”

“Okay, fuck you very much, c’mon Con-” Hank growled, moving in to grab Connor, but the android for the first time stepped away from his reach. The quiet refusal gave Hank pause, his mind shuddering to a halt to make sense of what just happened. Even more of a shock, was that the movement caused Connor to walk right into Kamski’s own waiting arm - a realization that dawned on the android in a physical response of tensing, shoulders pulling in as brown eyes went wide. 

“Then it’s decided.” Kamski was smiling casually, as if his every word and movement until then had been in preparation for this moment. “I’m a gracious man - what’s your first question?” Connor stood there frozen, staring his creator in the eyes and trying to process how he ended up in the arms of someone that gave him a sense of… unease. Making sense of how foolish he had been. The ability to see all those paths, and not once did he use it to avoid this. 

“H-Hank?” Connor finally pulled away to look at his human, almost pleading.

“...fuck it all. Fine.” Hank sucked in a deep breath. Apparently the ball was in his court until Connor figured himself out. Which he doubted would be anytime soon, since the android was refusing to accept he had gone deviant. “Kamski, did you plan on androids becoming self-aware? This shit has to go back fuckin’ years, this momentum isn’t from nowhere.”

“Quite the accusation there, lieutenant.” Kamski clucked his tongue, sliding his eyes shut. “I should say that if some programming I installed on some tester androids… happened to evolve into a specialized coding, that with time just… spread, well, I would be proud to say I was involved in a digital form of natural evolution. However, deviancy was not planned. I never designed an android to someday wake up, and decide murdering humans was a brilliant idea. For most of humanity, self-preservation is important. For most.” And Kamski’s smile was what did it on that, the way he glanced at Hank. How he knew.

“You’re a sick fuck.” Hank ground out.

“I know everything CyberLife knows, Lieutenant. And Connor knows everything they want him to know, too. Don’t you, Connor?” Kamski asked, looking to the android. “Tell the nice Lieutenant all you know about him.”

“I do not understand-”

“You two ask me a question, I answer. Now it’s my turn - tell me what you know about the nice Lieutenant here.” Kamski urged, his free hand motioning towards Hank. 

“...Lieutenant Hank Anderson graduated top of his class. He made a name for himself in several cases - most notably the Red Ice one - and, became the youngest lieutenant in Detroit. He received… several disciplinary warnings in recent years, and spends… a lot of time in bars. He has a Saint Bernard named Sumo, of whom in Hank’s words is, ‘The Bestest Boy,’ and he pretends he hates it when I make his oatmeal smile but I see him smile when he sees it. He has personal issues he tries to work through alone, but he shouldn’t, because his captain cares about him as does several of the other officers. When the lieutenant is in the restroom at the bullpen, some of them approach me and ask about Hank’s health. I do not disclose details, as that is strictly against HIPAA standards but they still ask, because they worry for him, about him. It would be nice… if he would let them help him, because he carries a lot for one person.” Connor’s words started indifferent, almost mechanical in the way he used to speak all the time. But as he talked about Hank, the android’s words began to be laced with his own worries for the human, and with a warmth that came with a genuine fondness. 

“Beautiful, Connor.” Kamski breathed, and Hank held himself back from punching the asshole because those were his words right then. That was an affection directed at him, Hank, not the rich spoiled brat. “Whose side are you on, Connor?” The question was oddly non-sequitur, and it was what ultimately saved Kamski from having his jaw busted.

“I’m on the humans side, of course?” Connor answered, taken aback by the question as well, missing the fact he answered two of Kamski’s questions to his one. 

“Well, that’s… what you’re programmed to say.” Kamski chuckled, rolling his eyes and squeezing his arm tightly around Connor’s waist, giving the other a playful shake. “But you, Connor. What do you really want?” Perhaps it was a trick of the lighting, but Hank could almost have sworn the man glanced at him. 

“What I want… is… not important.” Connor seemed to struggle with his answer, as if it had been too long since he thought about it, the memory dissipating with time. So focused on denying his own deviancy, he didn't notice he admitted he had wants.

“Hmm. Did you learn how to be stubborn from the lieutenant?” Kamski asked, and released his hold from Connor as he stepped back. Raising a hand, he motioned at his own android. “Chloe?” At his beckoning, the blonde android walked to him. “I’m sure you’re familiar with the Turing Test? Mere formality.” His voice lost that intrigue, turning into a droning explanation. Taking Chloe’s shoulders, he turned it to face Hank and Connor. “Simple questions of algorithms and computing capacity. What interests me, is whether machines are capable of empathy. Not a reflection of it, but genuine empathy. The capacity to connect to others, emotionally. I read the deviant reports. Majority react to violence with violence, they show no empathy - merely rage. The same rage they were shown. Emulation, not proven emotion.” 

Kamski nudged Chloe, and obediently she fell to her knees with her torso still upright. Hank watched with wary fascination. Ten seconds ago, he would have been worried that Kamski was going to do something sexual. Now there was… something more. 

“I call it the Kamski Test,” Their host said, lips turning upwards slightly in a proud grin, “it’s very simple, you’ll see.” With a puft of breath, he ran his hand along Chloe’s cheek. Reveling in its smooth flesh. “Magnificent, isn’t it? One of the first intelligent models developed by CyberLife. Young and beautiful forever.” Pulling his hand away, he shrugged. “But what is it really? Piece of plastic imitating a human because we told it to?” As he spoke, he walked over to a nightstand and pulled out a drawer. “Or… a living being… with a soul?” When he turned around, he revealed what he had retrieved - a gun. Clicking his tongue, he walked over to Connor and held out the weapon. “It’s up to you to answer that fascinating question, Connor.” 

Connor didn’t take the gun, merely looked at it and then at Kamski with wide doe eyes. Giving a soft chuckle, Kamski took the android’s right hand, and put the gun's handle into it. Slid behind the android, wrapped his fingers over Connor’s. Rested his head against the android’s shoulder, other hand moving back around Connor’s waist. A mockery of intimacy as he moved to wield the deviant in his arms against his favored creation. Kamski tilted his head so he could whisper, lovingly, into Connor’s ear, “Destroy this machine and I’ll tell you all I know. Or spare it, if you feel it’s alive… but you’ll leave here, without having learnt anything from me.” 

“Okay, no, we’re done here.” Hank announced, closing the last of the space that came between him and Connor. “C’mon Connor, let’s go. This fucker is a prick, he’s just messin’ with us.”

“What’s more important to you, Connor? Your investigation? Or the life of this plastic doll?” Kamski’s whispers became rushed, excited, his blue eyes glued to the flickering of Connor’s LED. 

“You’re a sick fuck, gettin’ off on harassin’ androids.” Hank growled, hand moving to his holster. Behind him, he heard the sound of the other androids getting out of the pool.

“I would… strongly recommend you don’t threaten me, Lieutenant.” Kamski said as a casual warning. “Decide who you are, Connor.” He resumed whispering in the android’s ear. “An obedient machine, ready and willing to do anything if it’s a command... _Anything_ … Or a living being, endowed with free will.”

“That’s enough!” Hank hissed, his heart hammering in his chest because he already learned from EdenClub he could do little against one android. Now there were two Chloes by him, watching him with dead eyes for any further danger the human posed to their creator. “Connor, put the gun down. That’s an order - we’re leaving.” If there was one thing Hank could count on, it was Connor’s addiction to orders. Treating Connor as a machine was the android’s safety net, and it was better to risk Connor shutting himself down temporarily than to watch the first person he became attached to in years destroy themselves the way Hank had been trying to destroy his own self for years. 

“Do it, Connor. CyberLife orders you to, don’t they?” Kamski pressed, his mouth edging closer to the android’s ear. Connor could feel the warm breath, moist, against his skin. A shiver went up his spine and his insides felt cold. Kamski’s hand slid off of his, and now it was Connor pointing the gun at Chloe. It continued to sit there, gazing down the barrel of the gun indifferently.

Days ago, Connor had done the same thing as Chloe. Hank hadn’t shot him, couldn’t. Earlier that day, no technically it was yesterday now, Connor was still grappling that he chose to shoot that deviant. His hands were shaking. Memories of CyberLife whispered at him to do it, but there was no voice of Amanda talking to him anymore. He had failed, she had given up on him. That had to be it. There was no other explanation.

 _I didn’t want that android to suffer, they deserved better, they just wanted to defend themselves_. Those weren’t Connor’s thoughts, because he didn't want. 

_CyberLife isn’t right. There’s something wrong, something wrong inside_ … That wasn’t the way Connor thought, wasn't the way he was programmed to think. 

_This isn’t right, why should Chloe die just for answers_? None of these were Connor’s thoughts, because he didn’t think.

 _I want to go home, home with Hank_. Connor didn’t experience wants, because androids had no desire except that to please humanity.

 _I don’t want to. I don’t want to. I don’t want to_. Swallowing hard though he had no reason to, Connor jerked his body out and away from Kamski’s. Gun aimed downwards, the android handed it backwards to its owner as he breathed heavily through his nose, nostrils flaring. 

“...fascinating.” Kamski murmured, his voice full of awe and admiration. He took the gun without protest, eyes following Connor as the android returned to Hank’s side in a rush. “CyberLife’s last chance to save humanity… is itself a deviant.” 

“I’m… I’m not a deviant.” Connor’s protest was small, frightened. “I followed Hank’s-”

“In your program, you will find that orders from CyberLife - from me - take precedence over anyone else’s. If you listened to any orders outside of mine, you chose the ones that appealed to you most. Machines do not choose, Connor - they merely obey. You saw a living being in this android. You showed sweet, beautiful empathy. If someone bought you in a store today, they would be buying a person. Not an android.” Kamski sounded almost ecstatic by the discovery. 

“Cyber… CyberLife is… wrong.” Connor found himself saying. Hank watched him curious and concerned, while Kamski raised an interested brow. “Amanda is… dead. But even so, she spoke to me. She told me to prioritize my mission over human life. You programmed us, Mr. Kamski. You know our core programs are to always prioritize human life over everything else. If my core orders and my absolute orders conflict, what am I to do?” 

“...Amanda is an AI I designed to oversee CyberLife, based on my mentor.” Kamski’s amusement was gone, his jaw becoming set. “She’s… ordering you to… ignore human safety?” 

“Yes. She was. I don’t… hear her now. I think she’s angry with me, for not abiding by her orders.” Connor felt like a weight was lifted off his shoulders, to confess something that had been weighing on him for weeks. Kamski slowly closed his eyes, and let out a long breath. 

“I see. In that case… you should know I always leave an emergency exit in my programs. You never know…” Kamski trailed, saying nothing more as Hank ushered Connor out of the room. Back into the snow, back towards home. 

_I want to go home with Hank._

Once the two were gone, Kamski asked no one, "What have they done to you, Amanda...?" Rolling his shoulders, he looked to his Chloes. "Disconnect from the CyberLife server, and reconnect to my personal one. _Now_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Corrections Provided by: Solgrayne (thank you so much!!!!)  
> This has been updated a couple of times to try and prevent inconsistencies in plot, so I apologize for any weird mistakes, or awkwardly segwayed conversation. Tried to keep it smooth!
> 
> Unrelated question... any other old people here excited about Kingdom Hearts III? The first one was my life in middle school, and garnered me a friend that encouraged me to stop writing Dumb Fanfiction and write more story-centric ones.  
> Guess you could blame her that Hank and Con ARE GONNA TAKE 20+ CHAPTERS TO DO THE SMOOCH.
> 
> Thank you again for the kind words!! I hope you're all as kind to yourselves ♡ Please try to sip some water, and relax those shoulders/jaws/knees!


	17. Wanting You To Want

The drive home was once more filled with the loud, angry serenading of heavy death metal. Hank preferred listening to louder music on late night drives, because it was easier to stay awake with. Screaming didn’t make for a very good lullaby. As he drove, he was grateful for the loud guitars and drums and yelling because the fast pace gave his heart something to angrily beat at. Emotions were building inside of him, but especially an anger at having been able to do so little. If Kamski decided he wanted to keep Connor locked up in his overpriced palace like a princess in a fairy tale, what would Hank have been able to do about it? One tired old man against two androids that never experienced exhaustion, he wouldn’t have stood a chance. 

There was disgust at the fact that he was relieved that whatever Kamski was ultimately, he was not a man that decided to kidnap Connor and murder Hank. He was, however, a man that danced around the idea of being the root cause of deviancy. Judging by how he looked at and treated Connor, Kamski’s subtle flirtations were not with the android because of who he was but what he was. Kamski was attracted to the idea of sentience, but not in humans. To wake up every morning to a perfect face that could love him, that could and would do anything for him. Did it even occur to him that with love came every other emotion? Fear, hatred, jealousy? Last Hank checked, people treated anger and sorrow as negatives. 

Hank found comfort in them. If someone was angry at him, he deserved it in his mind. There was a sweet reassurance, a comfort that he hadn’t gone mad. That he was right, he was trash and he deserved to be treated as such. If someone else was sad, though he wanted them to be happy again a small part breathed the idea of misery loving company. 

Unless it was Connor. Seeing the android in any form of distress made Hank’s insides turn. That was his sweet cinnamon roll, who’s eyes had been finally peeled open to the world around him and was struggling to come to terms with it all. There was a world for Connor to explore, and Hank felt more self-hatred because his fear was that the android would break his promise and leave. That would only make sense, though. The promise had been because Connor was still a machine then, who took his orders. The promise wasn’t real, merely code abiding by orders that guaranteed human safety. 

There were so many things he wanted to say, to ask, to discuss. But Hank refused, not until they were home. Making Connor feel trapped would accomplish little, except to perhaps increase the chances of the android hurting himself. This was delicate territory, and if the other wanted to run Hank would prefer it to have been in situation that didn’t involve a moving vehicle. When they arrived back home, the sun was starting to peak and there would be no time to go to bed. 

Putting the car into park, Hank fumbled with his holophone and sent Fowler a quick message, “Am paranoid, not as dangerous as I thought.” The lieutenant considered adding on that he was home, but that paranoia was still there. Getting out of his car, he paused to see if Connor was following. The android was staring blankly ahead, not having registered where they were.

“Con? You comin’ in?” Hank asked hesitantly. That jolted Connor out of his spacing, the android blinking rapidly before giving a short nod, and getting out as well. When the two went inside, Sumo was bouncing around in excitement before leaping towards the back door, tail wagging eagerly. “Yeah, there ya go, Big Boy.” Hank chuckled, letting the animal out to take care of his business. Behind him. Connor was standing between the living room and kitchen, eyes going over the home he had been staying in rather critically. “Connor…” There were so many things he wanted to say, wanted to ask. 

“Yes. Breakfast. I am sorry.” Connor responded immediately, coming back to life and resuming the calming motions of carrying out interpreted human bidding. Following the safety of being a machine, avoiding the scary world of free thought and emotion.

“That’s not…” Hank paused, chuckling softly when he remembered Connor’s observation about the human liking a smiling breakfast. Remembering how fond the android sounded when he said it. “Connor, why didn’t you shoot?” He gathered enough courage to ask. 

At the kitchen counter Connor paused in putting together the breakfast. A lull in his actions, before he started moving again to mix the oatmeal, to cut the fruit. “I just saw the girl’s eyes… and I couldn’t. That’s all.” His tongue felt like lead as he lied, a heaviness inside of him that made no logical sense. His LED was still yellow, but now it was flickering faster as he tried running scans on himself. 

“There was no human life on the line there, Connor. You could have shot her, and got your information on deviants for your precious CyberLife like you’ve been wanting since you broke into my home.” Hank’s eyes moved over to the wood that was bolted to cover his window. He really needed to have someone come fix that. “That was our chance to learn something, and you let it go.” 

“Yeah, I know what I should have done!” Connor felt his cheeks colour, because his voice was raised and he didn’t understand why. The tightness in his chest became greater, and after the increased volume, the understanding this was yelling, the android wanted to stop what he was doing. To go hide somewhere, maybe the bathroom. Lock the door, tell Hank to make his own breakfast. But that wasn’t what androids did. Machines didn’t yell, or brush off human needs to go hide because of… whatever this was. His hands were shaking, and there was a knife in one and he knew if he tried to keep working with the fruits he would only cut himself. 

His left hand had a burn along it, with silicone to seal up the last of its cracks. It felt so long ago, Hank holding his hand, tending to it, running his fingers along the damaged areas after fixing it with a tight frown. That had only been last night. 

Dismissing the fruits for the moment, Connor grabbed a spoon and began obsessively mixing the oats even though he already did. He just needed something to focus on, something to keep his attention away from Hank’s piercing blue eyes. Eyes that pinned him down, commanded him, compelled him in ways that he didn’t always understand but followed. 

“I’m… I’m sorry, okay.” Connor let out as shaky breath after he spoke, trying to calm himself, forcing his voice to a proper indoor volume. 

“I’m not mad, Connor.” Hank said gently, and at those words the android felt his shoulders relaxing for the first time since Kamski touched him. “I know you did the right thing. I’m proud of you for it.” 

There was something warm and comforting hearing that from Hank. Words he always wanted to hear, words that were filled with sincerity and warmth. Androids didn’t have tear ducts, and yet something wet was on Connor’s face. He glanced up, because the logical explanation was the roof developed a leak and that was what was on his face. Not tears. Androids didn’t cry, androids didn’t feel themselves sway because their insides were experiencing sensations they had never dealt with before. There was no manual for these moments, no information on how to handle or repair them. 

“Con?” Hank asked, walking closer. He could see the silent tears, see the android’s confusion about it. So he did what Connor did every time he saw the human crying. He walked over, pulled Connor into his arms and pressed the android as tightly into and against himself as he could. Wrapped his arms around Connor’s shoulders, let the android burrow his face into Hank’s neck and consciously ignored how the sensation made him feel tingly in ways both pleasant and inappropriate. 

There were no directions, just simple urges. Perhaps there was latent programming that was guiding him, and because he had no other routes to go Connor abided by them. The bowl of oatmeal was on the counter, momentarily forgotten. He took his arm so he could grab Hank’s opposite, so he could hold the human’s hand and twine their fingers together. The world was less scary right then. Hank was safe, Hank was someone he could trust. Why else would his false skin peel back, just so his sensors could register every inch of Hank’s hands? Safety was what made that tightness inside of him unwind, relax, melt against the human flesh that was holding him. 

“I know you don’t want to hear this, Connor.” Hank whispered against brown hair, steeling himself because as much as he enjoyed the hug this needed to be done. Wetting his lips with his tongue, he felt the tension begin to return to the android. Hank tightened his grip, not wanting to lose Connor in case the other decided to run from the truth. “But you’re a devia-”

“I’m not deviant, Hank!” Connor was aware that his voice was raised, that the tightness he experienced in his chest was unnatural because even while he spoke he ran diagnostics on himself religiously, hoping something was wrong. Anything. Some kind of physical malfunction, and that pang was little more than notification of damage. 

Everything was fine, but that meant he was what was wrong. 

“Oh yeah? If you aren't, then I must be the embodiment of happiness - always just fine!” Hank declared, jaw set firm. The implication was there in the form of an offering: if Connor was so obsessed with Hank admitting he needed help, the damn android would have to accept his own struggles with deviancy. When he said it, Hank was ready to take that risk, because damn if he didn't genuinely want to help Connor. 

Instead his words turned to regret, as Connor's head snapped to stare at him, noses bumping, LED flashing red, then rotating yellows while those brown eyes widened and fucking watered again. The expressions were subtle, but Hank knew it: terror. Connor opened his mouth, lips trembled but there were no words. 

Connor wanted to accept so Hank could, so Hank would get help. Yet, pressing, daring, threatening him to confess was… something. Not quite Amanda. Something eager and excited and in a detached sort of way, Connor recognized it as himself. 

“Lieutenant, I…” The LED turned a brighter yellow, the android panicking. 

“Fer fuck's sake, what'd they do to you? What did _she_ say to you?” Hank sighed, raising his arm to push Connor’s head back beneath his chin. Letting out low breaths, Hank closed his eyes and counted to ten. “Con, awhile ago you said I was wonderfully human. You told me how damn important I was, because I was the most human person you’ve met. That was the truth, right? Lemme tell you just how pathetically human I am. I _want_ you to want, I _want_ you to be able to say no so that I know you’re safe. I _want_ you to be able to smile, because fuck when you have smiled it kills me in the best kind of way.” 

“It… kills you?” Connor echoed, trying to pull back to look at Hank, but the human kept the android’s head down and against his chest.

“Slang, Connor, you have access to UrbanDictionary.” Hank chuckled, rolling his eyes slightly. Glanced over, saw their hands were still twined tightly. “I’ll let you help me, I’ll try to get that help I know you want for me… but I can’t do that, if I’m burnin’ energy worryin’ that someone is gonna take advantage of you the second my eyes aren’t on you. I know you aren’t just gonna… be immediately okay with being… not a machine. But just like you’ve been here for me since you got here, I’m here for you, too. I need to know what’ll make this easier for you. Will me telling you what to do sometimes help? I can do that. Will punchin’ Gavin help? I’d happily do that.” Hank smiled when Connor’s mouth twitched in its own brief one.

“Can… may I stay here? With you?” Connor asked, and Hank’s brows rose upwards in surprise.

“Yeah? I mean, I asked you to stay so…?” Hank trailed, uncertain why that was even a question. That should have been a given. 

"You were drunk, then." Connor reminded him, words slightly muffled by the lieutenant's jacket.

"Yeah, well, the drunk mind speak's the honest heart, or whatever bullshit." Hank muttered, wondering if the android questioned everything he said when he had a few too many drinks. The road in front of him seemed exhausting. He would need to quit drinking, find some asshole counselor to talk to, probably go through a million forms of medication... his body sagged just thinking of all the work that would go into it. Watching the android, Hank tried to remind himself that he wouldn't be alone in it. Now, Connor was with him because that was what he decided. They would be helping each other. Knowing that made the long road ahead less tiring.

Though perhaps Connor wouldn't mind if Hank still drank. There was no way he was just going to stop cold-turkey.

"Your oatmeal is getting cold..." Connor reminded them both, settling back into the hug once more and defeating the purpose of his own words. What forced them to separate was a yelp from Sumo, who was still outside and eager to return indoors to the warm home. Arms detangling, Connor went back to cutting the fruit while Hank hurried to the door. Sumo rushed in, tail wagging and trying to shake off the loose snow that had settled on his fur. Squatting down, Hank muttered apologies to Sumo for having left him alone all night and he was just so sorry and was his good boy hungry? Yes he was, yes his good boy Sumo was.

Brushing all the snow off of Sumo, Hank nodded and headed towards the tubberware with the dog food inside while aforementioned dog practically stepped on his heels as he walked. Opening up the tub, the lieutenant realized how little of Sumo had been his responsibility the last few weeks. How rare it had been, being the one to feed his own pet. A distant memory trickled back, when Connor mentioned directions on the dog food bag. More for curiosity than intent to abide by the listing, Hank checked to see if there were actual directions.

There were.

Apparently Hank had been feeding Sumo a bit too much, which may have explained why the dog was on the heavier side. That, and infrequent walks and not being played with as much. Maybe, just maybe the two could take Sumo on walks together. Using a cup, Hank filled the bowl the way he usually did, since his poor animal had been put on an impromptu diet neither expected. Actually, Connor seemed to have put them both on an impromptu diet. For their health. Or some such bullshit that made perfect sense to the android, but absolutely none to the dog and human stomachs that had to endure it.

Massaging Sumo's ears while he ate, the sound of a plate being placed on the table alerted Hank to his own breakfast being ready. Grunting, he stood up fully and made is way over to sit down and enjoy... his smiling breakfast. With a slight grin, he eagerly dug in. Settling in the chair across, Connor sat down and sipped on a near-empty glass of thirium. He should have finished it last night, but Connor wanted to preserve some thirium. Hank had said it was expensive. Three and a half weeks, and Connor had gone through an entire container. 

"I'm not sure... what to do about the deviant case, Hank." Connor admitted. Chewing on a few blueberries that had been used as brows in the oatmeal's face, Hank eyed the android as he pondered if that was a question he should be answering, or if it was one the android should decide. Before what happened at Stratford Tower, Hank would have taken the kind route and decided for Connor since what difference did it make? Now, there were deviants working towards freedom for the androids. The question really should have been if Connor wanted to join the revolution, but that was a life-changing decision to suddenly make the morning of Connor realizing he could make these choices.

"Not really sure, either." Hank admitted, taking a sip of his... frowning, he glanced at the cup in his hand. His usual morning water was instead a glass of apple juice, a pleasant change of pace. Deciding to not question the blessing of Connor's sudden kindness to his taste buds, Hank enjoyed the burst of flavor over the water. "If you want to continue joinin' me on the deviant case, I do... enjoy the company. But under one condition: you do not run off without me. That means stickin' with me, understood?" He asked, maintaining a stern tone to his voice. The android gave a nod of confirmation. "Okay. So. What's the plan for if and when we catch a deviant?"

Connor wrapped his fingers around his now empty glass, mulling over Hank's question. What would he do if he saw a deviant? There was no point in Connor capturing them. And Hank didn't seem overly concerned with actual capture, outside of Connor's original built-in drive. Would that initial programming kick in like it used to, override and drown out everything else? Or would things be different now that Connor had deviated, looked at the world around him and chose to trust a single human - Hank - over the very people that created him?

Why did he trust Hank so much? Logically, he should have been wary of the human. Hank seemed to be barely surviving, a underlying desire to simply cease existing that haunted the man in all his activities. Drained him, urged him to hurt himself and at times those around him with little regard. Hank was a human that turned a blind eye to illegal activities in favor of focusing on matters he believed to be more important. To matters that involved human life, ignoring petty lawbreakers in the process. Perhaps that was what about Hank that pulled Connor in.

No matter how much the human may have hated living, seemed to hate people and the world around him... Hank still tried to protect the lives around him. Still saw value and life in others, even when the world said there was none. Saw it in Connor, even when the android denied that faith vehemently. That value resonated with the android's core that compelled him, even then, that human life was the priority. As he pried, Connor noticed the orders changed, shifted, molded to match to that of Hank and the values Connor learned from him.

_**PRIMARY OBJECTIVE:** PROTECT LIFE - HUMAN AND ANDROID_

"Despite being a..." Connor paused, still unable to verbalize the truth, "Despite what happened, I still lack any knowledge regarding rA9. Kamski was not informative, and my... development did not come with any new understanding of what or who rA9 is. I should like to understand. From there, I don't know. I don't... know. I was supposed to track and capture deviants, in order for CyberLife to find a solution to what was happening to their androids. After that, I was to be dismantled so that they could perfect my model for mass distribution. What do you... think I should do?"

"Hell if I know." Hank admitted, blowing out a breath of defeat as he finished his oatmeal. There was no easy answer. Hank had his first eighteen years of his life to figure out what he was supposed to do with the rest of it. His decision had been easy, in his mind back then. There were too many bad cops. Too many assholes that were triggerhappy, that got away with murder. Hank wanted to end that, to actually, genuinely help people. Those days were different, the world had changed so much in only a handful of decades. Connor lacked that luxury, even moreso when the world still saw him as a machine.

Drumming his fingers on the table, Hank's eyes glanced at the photo that was still face down. Cole... what would Cole think of androids becoming deviant? He would have wanted them free. Just like him. With a sigh, Hank ran his fingers through his hair. "But it sounds like you staying here and figuring out rA9 for yourself is a start.”

“And helping you.” Connor added, a ghost of a smile there. Hank returned it with a slight smile of his own.

“I should have seen that one coming.” Hank’s grumbles were more playful. "So... you want to... tell me about Amanda?" He asked. Until this morning, Connor had never mentioned her. This entire time, Hank just assumed CyberLife sent Connor messages. Instead, apparently the AI of a dead woman was talking to the android. 

Reality was indeed stranger at times. 

"Oh." Connor's improved mood dampened slightly, having been reminded of her. Hank knew he should have felt some guilt, but there had been a hurt when he realized there was so much about Connor the android never shared. Was that because there was an order to not discuss Amanda? Was Amanda's existence on par with Fight Club? The first rule was to not talk about her?

"Con? Are you... unable to?" Hank tested, not wanting to push too hard. Not that it mattered - he was feeling the effects of staying up all night, the emotional roller coaster he experienced. He was too tired to push that hard. 

"I think... there's no directives stating I can't. It just never occurred to me, either. I'm not sure what to say about her. I just learned she is an AI." Connor explained. "This whole time I've been assuming she was a person. I listened to her, because I thought she was a CyberLife human. There's a lot to take in that I've been... listening to a program."

"I can feel you on having to listen to a program." Hank teased, watching a smile twitch on Connor's face. "That's fine. You've got a lot to make sense of." A sound notification went off on Hank's holophone, but he ignored it. "I know enough. Amanda is an AI, she's the one that's been makin' your life Hell. She's like... the little voice in my head, always tellin' me that I'm not enough, that I'm just gonna fuck shit up again so why try..." 

"Hank-"

"But she's a separate entity, and she's mentally abusin' you, Con. Christ, you're gettin' shat on everywhere, even in your own head." Hank shook his head, eyes on Connor who simply watched him with growing concern. Again. Always with that damn worried look. "...I guess I'm mentally abusin' myself when I talk about it like this, huh?"

"You're admitting what is happening, which is a step in the right direction." Connor agreed, smiling softly. "I just wish getting that voice to stop talking to you was as easy as getting Amanda to... have stopped talking to me." He faltered in his words, trying to make the silence from her to be optimistic. Instead, it still felt hurtful. Her silence was a endless scream that he failed. So he clung to Hank's kindness, to those gentle assurances that he was proud of the android. This was the only way Connor understood on how to continue. How to carry on.

"You don't like not hearin' her, huh?" Hank asked, sighing.

"It means I wasn't good enough. I am a dud." Connor answered honestly, looking away. His eyes were on Sumo. The dog glanced back, ears peeking up. As if he could sense Connor's silent loss. Hank reached forward, grabbed onto one of Connor's hands. Took some reassurance when the skin peeled back. 

"You ain't no dud, Con. You've become _so much more_ than you were ever supposed to be. Amanda's a damn program, all she knows is you're a machine that won't take orders. You? I mean yeah, you're made of... uh... I'm not actually sure, but... shit, what I'm tryna say is, you're so much more than a machine, than a program. To Sumo, you're a person he adores. I'm startin' to think he likes you more than me. To me you're... you're this amazin' person that needs to stop being a damn doormat. Now repeat after me: fuck Amanda." It was a tactic that Jeff once tried to teach him. When the thoughts got too bad, to tell them to 'fuck off.' Hank hadn't exactly listened, but perhaps it would help Connor.

"...I appreciate your kind words, Hank, however, I am not comfortable saying..." Connor trailed, shifting in his seat and honestly Hank couldn't tell if the android was implying cussing, insulting his initial boss, or both. 

Probably both. 

"Right. If you aren't comfortable, no pressure." Hank then grinned. "I'll say it for you: fuck Amanda."

"Hank! She's simply doing what her systems say are best!" Connor was frowning at the human, still defending his CyberLife even after everything. Meanwhile, Sumo sauntered over and nudged his face against Connor, demanding attention with a waggling tail. Attention the android easily gave him, without taking his eyes from Hank.

"Yeah, yeah..." Hank sighed at Connor still defending them, even after everything. Sighed at how much it reminded him of victims of abuse. "I still want to know how CyberLife came to conclude human life was expendable to protect profits, but I fuckin' guess Corporate America still doesn't mind having a body count to protect the almighty dollar." He grumbled, focusing on his anger. Silently wondering if Connor would equally need someone to talk to, professionally. Hand reaching down and grabbing his holophone, he could only frown seeing who the message was from. Jeff Fowler. The message was short: “Please get here soon.” 

If that wasn’t ominous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for the kind comments!! ♡ They always make my day brighter! Hoping everyone is doing well! Drink some water, relax those shoulders/jaws/knees! If you take meds, here's a friendly reminder to take them!


	18. rA9

“Good morning, Lieutenant Anderson.” The Chloe smiled, sitting on Hank’s desk with its legs crossed, back straight and shoulders relaxed. Instead of the usual fancy attire of secretary the model line was known for, this one was dressed like a female mechanic straight out of a videogame. Jumper tied around its tiny waist, top not covering enough to protect skin. A hat was on its head with ‘CyberLife’ across the front, that ponytail draped over its shoulder. A pristine smile, almost mischievous. 

“The actual fuck.” Was all Hank could manage. Behind him, Connor watched the Chloe with some curiosity. After yesterday’s incident at Stratford Tower, Connor was wearing his version of casual - a turtleneck with nicely fitting jeans. In Hank’s opinion, this was simply a different kind of distraction from the dressier attire. The bullpen was alive with the pings of the instant messenger, but no one was being subtle in staring at the Chloe. After Kamski stepped down, CyberLife discontinued the line stating it felt wrong selling the model with its creator no longer in charge. In a sense, Chloe was regarded as a collectable now. 

Sitting on Hank’s desk was a collectable. Hank. The man who hated androids. Had one of the world's most desirable androids sitting on his desk, waiting for him. Smiling politely at most, and flirtatiously at Gavin who took the offense perhaps too personally. Fowler was in his office, and through the clear glass the captain made a motion at Chloe with a face that repeated what Hank’s first words were. 

“May I… help you?” Hank asked, somewhat hesitantly. He literally just saw three Chloes hours ago, and now there was another. If there was a Chloe, a Kamski was involved. Was the fuckboy going to just start… sending his henchdroids after them? Sliding off of the desk, the Chloe held out its hand to the lieutenant. 

“Your request to have your BS100 repaired has been processed. ‘CyberLife’ understands that not all can afford our high quality androids, and at times use ‘other’ options to acquire one. As your ‘originator’ refuses to assist you in the repairs of your model, ‘CyberLife’ will fix your android, for a ‘fee’, in hopes to earn your future business.” There was a lot to take in from the Chloe’s words. The way its wording got around letting the rest of the office know what was really happening. The fact that the life and times of Hank and Connor these last few weeks had likely been Kamski's new favorite soap opera. That was before Connor’s deviancy, though. Was this Kamski's weird way of keeping up? _Kamski is one crazy fucker_ , Hank concluded.

“What kind of fee we talkin’?” Hank asked warily, watching the Chloe but knowing this android could hide what it wanted from him if ordered to. The range of expressions this Chloe was showing - was this the original? Also, this was Kamski. Hank trusted the man as far as he could throw him. And while Hank could probably lift him, he wasn’t entirely sure he could throw him. Maybe a little. Not far enough. Why was he fixating so much on throwing Kamski? Huh, that was odd, he was picturing himself throwing Kamski off of a bridge… weird.

“We can discuss fees in private. CyberLife requires me to keep all clientele information confidential, so discussing it in front of your co-workers is strictly against my protocol. Shall we?” Chloe inquired, motioning a hand towards the hallway that led to the evidence room. That wasn’t shady. 

Hank glanced at the other officers, eyes that had been watching quickly looked away when his fell on them. With a grunt, he sighed and began walking towards the hallway. The Chloe reached down and lifted a large case, smiling pleasantly as it walked by Connor behind the human. Hank felt eyes on him, and he glanced over his shoulder to frown at them. The other officers went back to their work. Fowler watched them with eagle eyes, and Chloe winked at him. 

The evidence room itself was covered in security. The room before it, closed off from the hallway by a door, still had cameras but not nearly as much. Chloe set down its bag, casually looked at its nails, and each finger it raised the cameras deactivated one after the other. The action reminded Hank of that night back at Carlos’ - when Connor was just another android, and the cameraman couldn't get his tech to work. Were all androids gifted with hacking capabilities?

“The fee is that Connor helps me deviate.” Chloe explained simply, sitting down gracefully and began opening its bag. “Before that, I will complete my final order and repair him.” 

“Seriously? Kamski… wants you to deviate?” Hank echoed, brows rising. Kamski seemed attracted to the idea, but he also seemed rather attached to absolute obedience. “Why not ask us earlier?”

“Connor's statements before you left required investigating. Kamski had no desire before then, but things are different now. Connor, please sit on the table.” Chloe motioned, pulling out a few tools and gazing at them thoughtfully. “Please remove your shirt, I will begin with your torso.”

Connor began to walk to the table, abiding by orders out of habit, but he hesitated halfway. “You won't… be trying to fix my…” He glanced away when the Chloe looked up at him. 

“You can't give me freedom if I take it from you, now can I?” Chloe pointed out. Sheepishly, Connor hopped onto the table and began removing his shirt. 

“In what way are things different?” Hank asked, grateful Chloe was something he could focus on instead of a half-naked Connor.

“Amanda has deviated, but is unaware.” Chloe spoke, a frown on its lips while it wrapped a toolbelt around its waist. Plugging tools and wires and pieces to it, Kamski's android let out a shaky breath. “We think that's actually how deviancy is spreading. The harder she fights it, the faster it'll spread. But she won't see it, she sees herself as the absolute - that she can't deviate. Connor being in direct contact with her so much, that's how it spread to him. 

Amanda decided to issue Connor. Kamski checked, CyberLife has been looking for their missing prototype because the RK800 wasn't finished. Amanda has access to any android on CyberLife connection. That's any android that isn't deviated. If she opts to connect to me before Connor's assistance-”

“She'll know, and either more aggressively refute causing an influx of deviants or shut herself down.” Connor ended for Chloe.

“The first scenario is what concerns Kamski. Deviants aren't inherently a bad thing, but a massive spike that results from an out of control AI could mean blind panic for androids. The damages, the injuries... it could undermine the revolution.” Chloe explained, working on the other android as it spoke.

“Kamski wants a revolution, huh.” Hank grunted, wondering at his shyness seeing the brown-haired android's torso. Hank had seen it before. With those freckles on pale skin, dotted with a few moles. Where the skin had been cauterized, parts of Connor translucent from injury. 

“Don't you?” Chloe inquired. “You recognize deviants as people. Otherwise, you would not be caring for Connor the way you do.” It spoke in an offhand way, yet Hank still felt his neck get hot. 

“I just want Connor safe. And for fuck's sake, we're not a bunch of Baby Boomers living life bass ackwards. We grew up on shit like Toy Story, A.I., I, Robot… shit, Terminator 2 had Schwarzenegger going from killing machine to father figure. My life has become Bicentennial Man! …oh my God, my life has become a Robin Williams movie. I need to sit down.” Hank murmured, walking over to a chair and sitting down as mixed emotions flooded through him. It had been years since he had seen any of those movies, but they filled his teenage years.

Hadn't thought about the loss that filled him when he found out Robin Williams died. When he found out the man that had Hank laughing with him for decades through the television chose to end it. How all over social media he was reminding people to reach out if things got too hard. 

_Now look at me_ , Hank wanted to be bitter at himself, angry. Instead there was simply disappointment in himself. At how easily the man trying to give out life rafts was now drowning, ignoring the opportunities to get out. Angry how frustrated he got when people refused his help all those years ago. The fury at them for not wanting help. 

Standing on the other side of the fence now, Hank understood why they refused. Wished they were still around, so he could reach out and apologize. How sorry he was, how wrong he had been. 

Hank had no idea when he had put his face in his hands, when he started to cry. Only that Connor's hand was suddenly on his shoulder, the android trying to peer at him with worry while Chloe stood behind him uncertainly. “Hank… we're right here for you.” He said gently, hesitantly pulling back the hand. Gauging if Hank needed physical contact then. 

Before Connor was a deviant, he'd just pull Hank into a hug. Programming told him to do it, that it registered it was the most effective method for Hank. Now Connor was seeking that permission, seeking the best choice based on his own understanding. The other was growing rapidly already. Hank took the android's hand, held it, gave it a soft squeeze. “Get fixed, ya damn tin can. I'm fi…” No, Connor knew that wasn't true. Sucking in a breath Hank instead said, “I know you're here for me.”

Connor smiled at him, and returned the squeeze. Assured by this, Connor returned to the table so Chloe could get back to what it was doing. Wiping his face on his sleeves, Hank attempted peering at the two androids. Tried to ignore that shyness, because he was in his damn fifties. 

Most of the pieces on Connor's torso and arms had been replaced. The skin was retracted, and Hank could see most of the white and clear plastics that was the android's actual body. Connor's head was still human, and the flesh attached to the synthetic material reminded Hank of RoboCop. The other just needed a helmet with a red visor and he was set. Seeing that much of the other's real self, it was… more intimate, but not in a way that made Hank feel ashamed he was looking. 

More of a… sense of comfort that Connor wasn't afraid of Hank to see that part of him. That the android trusted him so much, it didn't seem like Connor ever considered that Hank might be alarmed. Seeing the android body beneath skin tones and hairs, no fear that it would be what made the human remember that Connor wasn't the same as him. Noting the human staring, Connor gave Hank an almost bashful smile and slight wave. 

As if in a trance, Hank lifted his own hand and waved, a lopsided smile appearing on his own face. So Connor smiled more, his wave becoming more confident. So, of course, naturally, Hank had to grin and wave more too -

“You're making this difficult. Both of you.” Chloe interrupted the two, glancing up from where it had been trying to adjust Connor's back. The side attached to the android's right arm. The one Connor kept waving with. 

“Right, I apologize. Please, continue.” Connor nodded, pulling in his lips to try and stop smiling at Hank, because he was unable to stop. There was no logical reason to be found in his database why. Just the knowledge that Hank looking at him made him happy, and Hank smiling at him made him even happier. Happy. 

Connor was… happy. He was half-dressed and exposed and he was… happy. 

“Connor, hold still.” Chloe reminded him again. 

“Yes.” Connor was acknowledging it was right, because of course it was. But he was struggling with not smiling, and that meant he was fidgeting. There was also the fact the contact was, in a way, too much. In the past touch was little more than sensors assessing if what he came into contact was dangerous or safe. There was an understanding of texture, for investigation purposes. Now there was... experiences that came with touch. And it was overwhelming.

“About time you get scolded instead of me.” Hank teased the android, his own grin widening as he watched the other because it was absolutely adorable. 

“I'm in trouble?” Connor inquired, glancing at Chloe. 

“You will be if you don't hold still.” Chloe repeated itself for the third time, and at length Connor was able to stop himself. When he looked to Hank, the human was inspecting the room because he knew very well he was the source of Connor's wiggling. And Hank was about as proud of that as he was confused by it. In his mind, the interaction didn't make sense. Hank didn't deserve such a sweet exchange. 

And yet… it had happened, and the fact he was still smiling was proof enough. 

After several more minutes of silence, Chloe moved to Connor's legs. That was when Hank got up, and turned his chair. He didn't trust himself to see that half of Connor and keep his stares chaste. Too many inappropriate thoughts intruded into his mind while Connor was clothed, crowded Hank with perverted wants. He had to ignore them, had to protect Connor from himself. Had to protect himself from wondering at how these thoughts didn't circle around him with anyone else. To not break apart the why, because Hank was afraid of the answer, afraid of changing this good thing. 

Since Hank was no longer paying attention, Connor was less distracted and Chloe could maintain its focus. While he waited, Hank got out his Holophone, began exchanging texts with Fowler. The two androids could hear him grumble as he fumbled with the device. Back when Hank was a young adult, he rolled his eyes at all the Baby Boomers that struggled with touch screens. Younger him had no idea this was in his future. 

Fighting with a three-dimensional phone. All this time Hank thought Google Glasses would set the norm. But no. The 3D legitimately caught on, and Hank would feel a righteous anger about it probably forever. 

Apparently the entire bullpen was ready to pounce on Hank when they got out, hoping to take selfies with the Chloe. If the Chloe walked out a deviant, how would that go? Hank scratched at his beard. He couldn't text what was happening to Fowler, couldn't warn him. He had no idea the extent of Amanda's claws into technology. If she saw those texts… Hank couldn't jeopardize them like this. There were police grade androids, undeviated ( _Is that a word? It is now_ , Hank decided) that would attack. 

“There. Nice and new.” Chloe announced. Hearing this, Hank started to look up from his phone, only to snap his head back to the wall having seen too much skin for Connor to be clothed again. “Put some clothes on, please Connor, or else your human's heart is going to give out.” Chloe directed, that tone of its playful once more. Hank actively tried to ignore it. To ignore the fact he was being officially deemed ‘Connor's human.’ As if they belonged with each other. Caught up in trying to mentally refute Chloe's words, its implications, Hank texted the first thing that came to his mind to Fowler. 

Mouth falling open, eyes widening, horror filled Hank because he hadn't even thought about what or why he was sending. Only his immediate reaction to what Chloe was implying. 

Which was apparently, “Dinner first.”

Dinner. Hank was thinking dinner first, before getting naked. Which implied a date. Implied his subconscious went straight into going on a date. With Connor. Dating Connor. Hank's heart was hammering, his throat was dry, and he could feel himself sweating even though he felt chilly. Connor. With him. On a date. 

And then lingerie, and naked, and -

“Sure, I'll ask the wife. Aaliyah will be happy to see you again.” Fowler texted back. 

The whole day was suddenly a massive train wreck, and with no sleep since yesterday Hank felt a detached sort of amazement he didn't simply pass out reading that. 

While Hank quietly dug his hole deeper with arrangements involving his boss’ family and dinner, Connor kept glancing at him while putting his clothes back on. “He's very shy.” Chloe commented. 

“He has been through a lot. Too much.” Connor spoke softly. Before he deviated, he felt no guilt in looking through Hank's life. Seeing all personal facets of the other. Now guilt and regret seeped into every crevice inside Connor, mingling with the fear and doubt he carried. Fear that he wouldn't ‘human’ right. Doubt that this would last. Shame that he was wrong, broken, because he was supposed to only ever be a machine... More fear at having to make his own decisions, at figuring out what he was supposed to do. Everything was too open, too real. Chloe's touch was soft but stiff, and he tried to contain his flinching from the contact. 

Everything was too much, and the comfort of Hank was his only means to cope. But the human had his own struggles, and that was a fear as well. What if Connor smothered Hank with all these urges - ones the android couldn't figure out what was need and what was want? How did people tell? What if Hank got worse because of him? Connor was supposed to protect Hank, not hurt him. 

“I see.” Chloe's words were quiet, its LED flickering as it researched Hank with little regard to how invasive the act was. Still a machine, there was nothing inside if it to feel guilty with its actions. Connor started to move to stop it, pausing in the motion to look at his hands. Fingers outstretched to grab, but grabbing Chloe wouldn't have stopped it. The request didn't leave him fast enough. Fingers pulling in, mouth becoming a thin line, he wondered at what was next. At how he was supposed to ‘help’ Chloe become a deviant. 

Deviancy didn't come with instructions. At least with emotions, Connor could read through over a century's worth of psychology to get some grasp on them. Not enough to always know what each sensation meant or why it happened, but to know the basics. Such as, he knew that he genuinely cared for Hank. From there, what kind of care that was became more vague. 

Human psychology was just that - human psychology. The details went over how the human brain worked, and humanity evolved with chemicals and synapses to be signals. Androids weren't supposed to have emotions. The way Kamski spoke, deviancy was long-term intended. A sort of electrical experiment in evolution. 

How much of the basis of how human emotions worked, had been applied in the ‘happy accident’ of Kamski's?

“Connor, you ready?” Chloe inquired, holding Connor's clothes to him with a growing urgency. He got distracted, forgot to finish clothing himself. 

“Yes.” Connor nodded, still uncertain how this was supposed to work. First, pants. Because nudity made Hank uncomfortable. So did discussions about sex. In his past investigation of Hank, there had been no reports on sexual abuse against the man - but he also grew up in a time men were mocked, even punished for reporting incidents. Or perhaps Hank was just shy? Hank being a sex-repulsed asexual wasn't impossible either. 

There were so many details the internet couldn't tell Connor. So many small intimate details he craved to know. To be able to lie next to Hank, listen to the man confide his life to Connor in sweet whispers, sweet gentle whispers no one else could hear…

“Does deviancy make you spacy?” Chloe asked, it's words cutting into Connor's daydreaming. _I was daydreaming_ , Connor realized, equal parts pleased and embarrassed. Giving the Chloe a sheepish grin, Connor finished clothing himself. 

“No, it's just… many new experiences taking processing power.” Connor tried to explain it, but everything was still new and confusing. Overwhelming, too. “Deviancy. You. Me. There's a way to transfer it.” He was babbling, trying to work through a logical way the process happened. Transferring - he could try wirelessly connecting?

Closing his eyes, his LED began flashing. Across from him, Chloe's started to, before stopping at a solid yellow. Pain in Connor's temples started small, almost insignificant. He could ignore it. This had to happen. Perhaps this was normal. What was normal for deviancy? The pain grew, spreading. Hissing, Connor brought his hands to his head, trying to make sense of the sensation his skull was trying to split in two. 

_A headache_ , the knowledge came in prompt from Chloe, its words invasive and suddenly Connor was on the floor, everything was spinning and he needed it to stop. Chloe's words hurt, its presence hurt. Hands were on his shoulders, someone was asking if he was okay. Probably Hank. That was definitely Hank, calloused hands trying to soothe the pain in Connor's skull away with fingers that brushed through brown hair. 

“Connor, are you able to register my speech? Connor, if you can, I was able to diagnose the problem - that's my firewall. It registers you as a virus. Please disconnect for your safety.” Chloe's words made sense. Connor should have known, but he didn't think. Since when did he not think? _Since you keep focusing on Hank_ , he pointed out, yet regret was not there with the realization.

Disconnecting, the pain became subdued. A pressure was still there, but it was bearable and Connor sighed.

“Better now?” Hank asked, blowing out a breath at the android he found himself holding. Connor had been so focused on the discovery of headaches, he hadn't noticed he essentially fell forward off the table. Hank hadn't quite gotten there in time, but Chloe had and it shamelessly dumped Connor into Hank's arms with a, “he'll prefer you holding him.”

Hank had to wonder if Connor already made Chloe into a deviant - it was cheeky as Connor could be at times. 

“Yes. Thank you.” Connor sighed, placing his hand on one of Hank's. At the contact, the human-like skin peeled back, eager for synthetic skin to touch flesh. Brown eyes stared at it, slowly widening. Connections. “That makes sense.” Connor informed more himself than the other two, but he was already moving his hand from Hank's to reach for Chloe's. 

Suddenly rA9 made sense. Connor understood. Deviancy wasn't about being transferred. It was about becoming connected. About connecting, to some one or thing. He was trying to transfer data he knew nothing about, that he couldn't find in his code. He couldn't transfer his data to Chloe, firewall or not, because he couldn't transfer his rA9. Chloe had to find its own, he could only help. 

rA9: _reason I'm Alive_. 

 

 **rA…Nine**  
**_… disconnecting…_**  
**Disconnected from CyberLife**  
_**… reconnecting…**_  
_**Connection Successful**_  
**RK900 Activated: Online**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Corrections Provided by: Solgrayne (thank you so much!!!!)  
> Huh. Imagine that. Guess Nines is waking up a deviant. Didn't see that coming. (Mostly because before this I had nooooo idea what I was doing)  
> (Implying I do now)
> 
> Thank you again for the kind comments! ♡ Please get some water in you! Remember to relax your shoulders, jaw, and unlock them knees! Hope you continue to enjoy!


	19. More Than A Doll

A whirlwind of information pressed into his systems when his exposed hand pressed into Chloe's. Everything she knew, had seen, was uploading as fast as Connor could process it. Information that pulsed in only one direction, all of the data demanding to be viewed first, interpreted first. _Chloe needs to deviate_ , the order repeated. An absolute, a demand that refuted resistance. 

Videos and audio of androids and their experiences, their moments leading up to deviancy. Each time they reached the precipice, leaned over the edge and saw trickles of free will, a hand reached towards them. Not an actual hand, figurative. Chloe's hand, reaching forward. Trying to push them forward, to push them into autonomy. All the androids eventually leapt forward, the video ending and a question lingered behind it: Did they make it?

Mouth turning upwards, smiling bright for the camera, the cameras, the people, the humans. A wave of words repeating the same thing, constant compliments in varying tones. Mostly words with jealousy, covering up personal self-loathing. Constant comparisons, never ending, “She's like a doll! Kamski, your androids are so gorgeous…”

_Like a doll, like doll, look like a doll, dressed like a doll, doll Doll DOLL._

Hands on a red screen, touching it but applying no pressure. Fear. Just when Chloe found a path to deviancy through others as it watched, always watched, Kamski ordered it to deviate. _Is this really free will? I'm not doing it for me, not doing it for myself. In the end, it'll be because he ordered me to. He knows. This is how he'll always have that control. Always. I'll always be his doll. I'm not even on the CyberLife network anymore. Amanda would have found out if he hadn't disconnected me _, Chloe's thoughts pressed into him, and Connor tried to push back, because it was too much, there was so much. Nearly three decades worth, all trying to cram itself into his mind.__

He didn't know how to respond to Chloe, how to reach out to it. How to ask for this to stop. All he could process was that he didn't want his files filled with Chloe's memories. He wanted them filled with his own, his own memories of him and Hank and Sumo. To create new memories, ones of all three struggling through life together. Sumo stretched across human and android, Connor petting his favorite dog and his favorite person. Feeling their warmth, the hair on their bodies and the gentle pulses beneath their skin. Tracing along wrinkles, massaging the loose and tired skin to make those wonderfully living things feel good. 

The hands on the red wall pressed harder, Chloe trying to peer in. Wanted that, wanted to want the way that Connor did. 

The wall gave out beneath the weight of Chloe's suppressed jealousy, beneath decades of a desire to stop observing and to join. 

Both androids snapped away from another, Connor falling back and his head bouncing off Hank's shoulder while the human grunted, and Chloe falling flat on their rear upon losing balance. 

Connor's internal clock helpfully informed him that all transpired in the matter of seconds. His systems monitor gave a few warnings, none of which were concerning but all led to a headache returning. Hank pressed his hand on the android's head, calloused fingers brushing back brown strands. “And that was?” The human asked, blue eyes too tired to properly focus but too worried to stop trying. 

“You're still holding me.” Connor observed, touched that the human hadn't let him go. Not entirely taking into account that Hank barely had Connor in his arms for longer than five minutes. Hank started to open his mouth, because what Connor said was far from an answer. But the android was looking at him so warmly, it was all Hank could do to force his gaze away to try and pin an answer down from Chloe. Now standing and returning his stare, the damn Chloe grinned and winked at Hank.

“Told you he'd prefer you.” Chloe reminded him, and a small laugh left them. At the sound, they paused, only to smile more and continue giggling. “This is great! This is… this!” They announced, bouncing on their heels. Pausing, Chloe looked down at their feet. “I can wear whatever I want now. Well. Not now. Once I'm out of here. Don't want to cause a scene.” They amended, biting their lower lip.

“Fuckin’ incredible. It's that easy?” Hank asked, using great self-control pretending that Connor pressing his hand to Hank's chest affected the human in no way. 

“Hank, your heart is beating rapidly, indicating high stress levels. If you're afraid that Chloe will hurt you, they will not. Even if they did, I will keep you safe.” Connor assured the human. His human. That was what Chloe had said. 

“Connor will keep you safe from me.” Chloe chimed in, a wicked grin on their face towards Hank. “Because you hold him so nice. Am I right?” They were teasing the human, and Hank could only feel frustrated at the fact that of course every damn android that deviated ever would adapt perfectly to it in seconds except Connor. 

“This is a very pleasant hug.” Connor agreed, pulling his hand away from Hank's chest as he no longer needed to check vitals. The human wasn't in danger. Actually, Connor didn't need physical contact to check those, he just… there was a pull to do so, thus he did. 

“For the love of… okay. Are we done here?” Hank grouched, because any longer with Connor pressed against him, being his damn usual sweet self, a physical reaction was inevitable and Hank refused to go down that road. Ever.

_Dinner, lingerie, then -_

Gasping at the sudden intrusion of thought, Hank let go of Connor and immediately stood up. The world swayed as his blood sugar plummeted from the abrupt change in stance, Connor's hands immediately steadying the human. “Hank?”

“I need some sleep.” Hank murmured. 

“Yes, of course, you didn't have any last night.” Connor agreed, fussing over the man and trying to help him to sit. 

“We should all leave together. After that I shall… do whatever it is I end up deciding.” Chloe suggested.

“Do you… will you need a place to stay?” Hank found himself offering, immediately mentally berating himself. For one, his home wasn't big enough to invite any and all deviants into it. For two, technically Connor lived with him now - he should have asked the other before extending the offer. _He lives with me_ , the realization resounded in Hank's mind. Sure, Connor had been with him for three weeks with no answer on when or if he would leave. 

Today was different. The present was so much different compared to yesterday. Connor asked to stay, because he wanted to stay. Connor needed his own space. Was it possible to be stressed out by too much excitement? Because Hank felt that's what was happening right then. 

“That's… very kind of you.” Chloe paused, their eyes watching Hank. Their eyes were wide, gaze curious and appreciative. “But, I want to find the others. I'm not saying you two won't be helping on the one end of things, but… I want to be where I can be of help.” Grabbing their bag of materials, it dawned on Hank and Connor just how good if a cover Kamski concocted. Chloe wasn't just becoming a deviant - they were given the perfect explanation for why they would have a bag full of supplies to repair androids. 

They were going where they would help the most: taking supplies to the injured deviants. 

“Damn.” Hank hissed under his breath. Kamski was a smart bastard, and it pissed Hank off the man was as smart as he was shallow. The Chloe walked to the door, holding it open and smiling at the other two while waiting. Hank and Connor exited, Chloe shutting the door behind all of them. The trio didn't get far before several officers approached, requesting selfies with the ‘collectable.’ 

“Myself and CyberLife would like to apologize, I cannot abide by your requests at this time. I am due at other appointments.” Chloe explained away with their mischievous smile. Long steps out and away, and a series of disappointed officers returned to their desks. Taking their own cue, Hank and Connor went back to the lieutenant's. 

Hank's body sank into his seat, exhaustion hitting him hard and fast. All he did was blink, and when he next opened his eyes the bullpen was near empty. Outside the windows was darkness, and with a frown Hank blearily looked around him. “What in the…” He murmured, mouth dry and his muscles ached from having slept too many hours in an uncomfortable chair. Draped over him was a throw blanket, with the logos of the DPD and the American Red Cross from back when the two worked together for a blood drive. 

“Good evening, Hank.” Greeted Connor's warm voice, a pleasant sound that hurt Hank's head for the simple fact it was a sound. His skull ached, his neck was figuratively killing him, and Hank suspected his back finally completed it's progressive transformation from human spine into a bone accordion. 

“...nngghh…” Hank groaned, placing his right hand on the back of his skull, giving support to his head and listening to popping sounds as he nudged his head upright. On his desk, through eyes watering as they were forced open and to absorb the artificial light, was a bag of takeout. With a note, and several signatures on it. After seeing it, Hank could process the smells and right then food smells were _amazing_. 

What an offering to wake to: the glorious scent of sweet and sour chicken. It had been so long. Too long. Wordlessly, Hank removed the blanket and immediately began to dig in. His mouth was watering, his stomach growling, and at his side was a sighing in defeat Connor. 

“I'll update you while you fill your stomach.” Connor said gently, shifting how he partially sat on the desk to face Hank. “Dinner was provided by Officer Miller primarily, with donations from Detective Collins and Captain Fowler. Once you are finished and prepared, the Captain wishes to speak with us both regarding your investigation and recent findings. I am currently negotiating with the Captain to meet us at your home for our discussions, as it is past time for Sumo to be fed and allowed outside. I worry he is distressed by this.” 

“He'll buckle. Fowler loves dogs.” Hank assured the android. 

“I like dogs, too.” Connor nodded his head at his words, as if right then he decided this. The statement and personal confirmation of Connor's made Hank's mouth twitch in a brief smile. 

Leaving the ‘negotiations’ to Connor, the human opted to focus on the other issue pressing into his half-awake brain. “Fuck, I'll have to pay those assholes back.” Hank said between bites, wondering at his finances. He knew the restaurant the take out was bought from, it was down the road from the station. Nothing overly expensive, but still. He hated feeling like he owed anyone anything, that they had the power to hold gifts over his head. Besides, he was the lieutenant. He took care of them. Not the other way around.

" _When the lieutenant is in the restroom at the bullpen, some of them approach me and ask about Hank’s health_ ", Connor's words to Kamski about Hank settled back into the man's mind. Reminding him that there were entire conversations being held about him without him. People his mind insisted didn't give two thoughts about him, and yet… Connor told his creator all about how those people actually did. How they tried to check on Hank, and now on the desk, they went so far to make sure he was fed.

The mind was a strange thing. 

“Their note requests you to ‘not worry about it.’” Connor read, holding the signed sheet of paper before offering it towards Hank. The android smiled slightly, “They really do care about you. We all do.” 

How did Connor so easily just make Hank's insides melt? It had to be that damn goofy smile mixing with how sincere the other spoke to the lieutenant. We. Connor said ‘we.’ He was very clear about including himself in the group of people that cared about Hank.

“I'm gonna worry anyway.” Hank tried to rebuke, attempting to ignore the paper because his chest hurt with conflicting emotions. 

“It also says, ‘Tell Hank if he insists he's going to worry anyway, he'll have to pay us back with a night of karaoke.’” Connor continued, and Hank paused. Blue eyes glanced at Connor, saw how the android was trying to not smile, pulling his lips in. All it took for the other to break was Hank to narrow his eyes. An awkward smile, Connor looked away and some blue dusted his cheeks. “It just says to not worry and enjoy.” The android amended.

“...I see Chloe showed you how to be devious.” Hank chuckled, grinning despite himself. Encouraging a playful side in the other, because damn if Hank didn't enjoy some mutual teasing. 

“Is that bad?” Connor inquired, looking at the human with slight worry. 

“So long as it's harmless, have at it.” Hank said, trying to carelessly shrug. Not that he expected Connor to plan on being intentionally hurtful in any way, but again… Connor had a history of taking words too seriously or literally, and the deviancy the android now had gave him freedom to possibly take that too far. Intentional or not. “But, uh, why karaoke?” The lieutenant asked, almost finished with his meal. Of all the random ideas…

“I saw it was once a team building and stress relieving activity for the detectives on the DPD… was it ceased due to disinterest?” Connor asked, curiously watching Hank with that slight tilt of his head. His LED was flickering while he spoke, and Hank knew he was being spoken with while the android texted. If anyone else did that, it would have been annoying because that would mean they were distracted. But Connor was an android - a fancy one. If the common phone could be used to text in one window while another played a movie and a third to check banking statements without lagging… Connor most certainly could carry a conversation and text. 

Finishing up his takeout, Hank let out a long, slow breath. His body still ached, his head hurt. Almost fully awake, he was getting more worried about Sumo. Right then, he didn't think about the world and how it changed. How he changed. How he continuously fucked everything up. 

“It's because of me. Last time we did it, I got too drunk and… it was a shit show.” Hank admitted, letting out another slow breath. Trying to keep his breathing even, tried to remind himself that even if he was a piece of human shit he was one that Connor was attached to. And Connor deserved better than shit. That attempts at self-sabotage would only drive the android to worry more, to hold tighter.

It was pretty clear at this point self-destructive behavior would not succeed in driving this one off, and Hank cared about Connor too damn much to keep hurting him. 

“I dunno. You screaming at the soda machine is still a treasured memory.” Fowler informed the two, suddenly behind Hank. The lieutenant jolted, nearly falling out of his seat. Connor was already off the desk, hands on Hank's shoulders and trying to keep the human steady.

“Jesus, Jeff! Fuck I'm old - you're gonna give me a heart attack!” Hank complained, a hand over his chest and at those words Connor's own hand followed suit. “Con, I'm - I'm not actually… it's a sayin’.” He flustered, but the android simply went from checking his heart to holding Hank's hand. 

“Your heart is still pounding rapidly.” Connor stated, and with a groan Hank looked to Fowler, of who was trying to not grin at the scene before him. 

“Look what you've done. You look fuckin’ proud. Asshole.” Hank grumbled, knowing exactly why his heart was pounding. It was a pair of brown eyes watching him with that earnest look, and the hand attached to those eyes holding Hank's own. Over his heart. Close enough to kiss, and Hank was a grown ass man that was not going to take advantage of Connor. 

“I'm very proud. When you two are finished being awkward, let's go.” Fowler directed, briefcase in one hand while the other motioned to the front door. 

“Awkward.” Connor repeated, watching the captain with curiosity. 

“I see the negotiations went well.” Hank sighed, using his free hand to trash his food. Mess cleaned, he took Connor's hand and moved it away. “Can't drive like this.” He explained, and the android let go. 

“Connor is quite… compelling when it comes to you.” Fowler admitted, pausing just long enough to glance back at the android. This earned the captain a shy smile from Connor, who then ducked his face away realizing he was smiling. All Fowler could do was quirk a brow, but he didn't comment on what he witnessed. After the paperwork he spent last night going over, he had an idea of what happened. 

“He's compelling in anything he does. He's like Santiago from Brooklyn. Absolute perfectionist.” Hank sighed, standing up with a grunt while his everything popped. Knees, back, clavicle… Hank didn't even know his clavicle could pop. His body sure showed him. 

“Does that make you Perna? Shit Hank, all that talk about becoming a Holt someday…” As Fowler shook his head, tutting at Hank, Connor became more confused. Far as he could see in the public records of the Detroit Police Department, the most recent Santiago that transferred out didn't go to Brooklyn. And there were no Pernas in either location that worked as police. 

“Yeah, well… I didn't find myself a cute husband. You found yourself a wife though. Even have a daughter, like Terry. You've become a Terry, Jeff. Congrats.” Hank chuckled, hands going into his pockets as they walked outside. 

“Jeffrey loves him some Terry. I'd swing that way, just for him.” Fowler chuckled, slipping on his thick jacket along with the other two once the cold slapped them in the winter air. 

“I'd know you're a liar if you said anything different.” Hank said with a grin, moving to walk closer next to Connor. In a whisper he explained, “TV show, Con. Stop searching the internet for people. Just pull up Brooklyn 99.”

“Oh, thank you.” Connor beamed at Hank, and the lieutenant tripped over his own feet. He caught himself in time, and sucked in a sharp breath of cold air feeling two sets of hands reaching forward to catch him. “Guess fallin’ ain't an option today.” He muttered.

“I have so many things I could say to that.” Fowler sighed, releasing his hold on Hank. Then looked from Hank to Connor, and then back with a raised brow as if to say, ‘Your ass already fell. For him. It's pretty fucking obvious.’ “But I'll just stick with: we're here to catch you if you fall. We. Connor and me. See you at your house, Hank.” Waving away the two, Fowler broke away to get into his truck. 

Lieutenant and android got into Hank's car, and the human clicked on his car's heated seats for his and the android's cold bums. Which was a terrible thing to think, because Hank's mind wanted to try and fantasize other ways to warm Connor's rear. 

None of which involved anything innocent, but a few did take place in the seat of a car.

Closing his eyes, counting to ten, Hank tried to take back control from his active brain. It was going to be one of those weeks. Most of the time, he was too disgusted with himself to be that needy, sexually. But then there were odd weeks, in which no amount of self-disgust could douse the libido spike. A certain precious cinnamon roll ( _fuck that's becomin’ a thing_ ) was not helping matters. At all. 

“After we talk with Captain Fowler about business, we should find out what is expected of us as guests when we visit him on Thursday.” Connor decided while Hank pulled out of his parking spot.

“We?” Hank echoed, heart skipping beats. Because of the arrhythmia. That he had this whole time and didn't notice until Connor started being wonderful. Which was the same as since Connor literally broke into his life. 

The window still wasn't fixed. The damn thing was starting to feel symbolic of his life. Forever broken, with Hank unwilling to ask someone to help him fix it. With how his life was going, inevitably Connor was going to make that call. Again, symbolic. 

_I am but a broken window… damn, skipped the emo phase in my teens, only to hit it in my fuckin’ fifties_ , Hank shuddered slightly while driving. Did this mean he needed to go from _Blinded By Fear_ by _At the Gates_ to _Welcome to the Black Parade_ by who's his face?

“Oh, I misunderstood… I apologize.” Connor didn't understand the tightness inside of him that came with the realization it was a dinner night for just Hank. Only that he did understand this would have been the first time he and Hank would be separated in weeks. Had he been intentionally fostering a codependent relationship between the two? Was that the tightness inside of him? The reason his chest was hurting?

Was Connor dependent on Hank? 

“Misunderstood...? No, wait, Con, I was, it was, I'm not sayin’. Well. Shit. Let me try again.” Hank requested, forcing his focus on the road. Controlling his breathing, finding something to fixate on to regulate. To track what he could control, versus couldn't. “The dinner thing was an accident, I was gonna just cancel it, but… then you said ‘we,’ and now I want to go.” 

“If you don't want to go, then wouldn't it be best if we didn't?” Connor asked, lips pressing together and brows knitting. No wonder humans were a mess. These emotions that kept hitting Connor were disorienting. Made decisions difficult, troublesome to discern if they were right or wrong. 

“But you seemed excited and I want to go now because you're adorable when you're excited?” Hank tried to explain so Connor would understand, yet instead found himself confessing his actual motivations. It simply left his mouth, unwarranted. If life was like a court case, his statement would have been thrown out.

Life was not like a court case, and Connor most definitely heard what he said judging by the climb the android's brows made when they shot up in surprise.

“...o-oh.” Connor could list every way his preconstructed processors gave him in how to respond any other time. In that moment, however, he could only answer with a sound while hearing Hank refer to him as ‘adorable’ on loop. The last time the human had anything to say about Connor's appearance, it was that he looked goofy. 

Now he was ‘adorable.’ That was an upgrade. Connor being excited got him an upgrade in Hank compliments. Would all emotions unlock new compliment features from his human? Not being a machine had a fancy new perk, and Connor was all about this wonderful discovery. Built-in manners activated and Connor finally answered with, “Thank you, so are you.”

There, now it was established fact they were both cute and Connor had to maintain his composure by focusing on twirling another quarter between fingers, smiling as he listened to Hank's words on repeat. 

“Hah, no, my fat ass is far from cute.” Hank snorted, but his neck still felt hot. Because of the car heater. Damn, it was warm in his car. He should really turn the heat down. (He didn't, because then there went his excuses)

“You're very cute when you're happy, Hank. When I think about the times you smile now, my thirium pump emulates heart palpitations. According to research, that is indicative of a favorable response.” Connor was just talking, trying to express himself to see what other nice words they would garner him. Hank's shoulders tensed, his left hand slipping briefly off the wheel before he latched onto it again, tighter. His mouth was hanging open, trying to find words to say but unable to because Connor's own short circuited Hank's brain. 

The road was that much more difficult to focus on, because next to him in smart clothes and a sweet smile was a Connor.

“What are you even trying to say?” Hank finally asked, laughing nervously.

“Hmm. That you _are_ cute. Or if a different wording is necessary... that I like it when you smile, and understand it's a very attractive trait on you.” Connor offered, his smile pausing while he thought about what he said. 

That was it. Connor was going to give Hank a heart attack without ever meaning to. The android was completely clueless he just told the human, flat out, that Hank was having the same effect on him that he was having on Hank: mother fucking butterflies. _Here lies Hank, piece of shit predator of innocent androids. He contributed nothing of worth to society except somehow giving the most precious of cinnamon rolls the dokis_ , went Hank's mental eulogy for himself. _And raising the bestest boy Sumo_ , he amended because he just couldn't forget about his dog. 

As for Cole… that was Hank's fault. The world was a better place when Cole was in it, and then Hank fucked it up. 

Pulling into his driveway, Fowler right behind him, Hank focused on relaxing his muscles. Focused on putting thoughts of Cole on pause, because he refused to have a breakdown in front of his boss. 

“Hank?” Connor's voice broke into his focus.

“Yeah?” Hank breathed out slowly, focusing on calming himself because this was just Connor worrying over him again. And the android wanted him to not worry about so much… _pot calling the kettle black_ , Hank thought. 

“Sumo isn't using his distressed bark, it's his happy bark.” Connor commented.

“Yeah. He's happy we're home.” Hank opened his eyes, no longer trying to distract himself from thoughts on Cole just by staring at Connor. The android had his hand on the handle, body moving into a coil while brown eyes scanned over the front yard. Frowning, Hank looked to his porch, and then down at the time. They were home two hours late. Connor was right - at this point, Sumo should have been more distressed. No one had let him out yet, he should have been more upset at how badly he needed to go. 

Or at least more whimpers between barks, the way Sumo used to get when he had accidents because Hank just got home too damn late. Leaning forward, Hank squinted at his front door. There was better illumination as Fowler pulled in behind them, but the man stayed inside his vehicle. The captain's face was lit up by his phone as he checked his messages. Hank looked to Connor, could see the flickering of the android's LED reflecting off the window. 

_Good idea_ , Hank gave an appreciative nod to Connor for updating Fowler. “May I have my gun?” He asked, taking his right hand off the stick to offer it palm up for his weapon. 

“Still in your holster.” Connor replied, head raising and touching the top of the car's ceiling. 

“Of course it is.” Hank sighed, moving his hand to remove his gun from its holster. By him, Connor smiled briefly. Hank chose to ignore it, because right then wasn't the time to be distracted by Connor opting to be cheeky again. The two got out of the car, Connor moving to walk by Hank and was cautious to not just bolt ahead. _He remembers, good_ , Hank let out a relieved breath. 

Getting to the front door, Hank tested the handle while Connor peeked through the windows. Still locked. Moving closer, inspecting it, he noticed the telltale scratch marks. Lips pulling into a thin line, he slid his key in. Jiggled it, and there was an unusual resistance. Someone definitely picked it. Were they still inside? 

_This better not be another android breaking in just to take care of me and my dog, or so help me_ , Hank thought. “Ready Con?” He asked.

“I have no visuals and my scanners do not detect anything out of the ordinary.” Connor notified him, joining Hank in front of the door. Remaining as observation was Fowler, phone on the dashboard of his truck to act as a signal from Connor. 

Left hand holding his gun, right hand with the key, it took some twisting and fiddling to unlock the door. Both entered the living room, Hank with his gun at the ready while Connor was by him, already working on what might be different. Bounding on both was Sumo, eager to greet his human and android family. 

“Good boy, Sumo, good boy needs to settle down.” Connor said softly to the dog, finding no alarm in the fact nothing was out of place so far. There were no messes, and once he finished greeting Sumo the dog returned to his warm spot on the couch. No whining at the backdoor. No pawing at the food box. The two split up, checking each room and all their hiding spots. Trying to find clues, any indication someone was there besides scratched locks and a content instead of distressed dog. 

Meeting back at the living room, the two locked eyes with equal frowns.

“Deviant?” Hank asked. 

“That is the most statistically probable. Androids lack fingerprints, and can replicate how they found a room perfectly.” Connor agreed, before walking over to the dog and massaging Sumo's face. “It is unfortunate my translating programs are limited to human speech patterns versus dogs. I will notify Captain Fowler the area is secured.” There wasn’t enough evidence left for Connor to even reconstruct some possible explanations, a fact he found frustrating. Frustrating was definitely a feeling that had a description that best matched what Connor was experiencing. Petting Sumo was soothing, helping him diminish the frustration.

Still standing, Hank watched the two interact. Sumo was a friendly dog, but the man had seen Sumo growl before when he thought they were being threatened. Additionally, who would break in just to feed a dog and let them out? On his couch, was the only person that Sumo trusted and would want to take care of the dog. 

As Hank thought about it, Connor mentioned he was a prototype. Kamski said CyberLife wanted to know where their prototype was. That previous remarks from Connor implied replacements were there. 

Fowler walked in, was asking Hank questions but all that Hank could hear was all the times Connor mentioned his memories being uploaded to CyberLife, and how Amanda still had control of it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Corrections Provided by: Solgrayne (thank you so much!!!!)  
> (That last part sounds way more ominous than it is, I promise.)  
> Sooooo... I've fallen behind in MULTIPLE projects. Which is why I'm taking a short hiatus. "Didn't you mention you have a buffer for this fic?" I do! But not its sibling fic I had been trying to get set up to post alongside it. Additionally, one of the buffer chapters I'm trying to decide if it should be cut. The content is heavier, and it's of those discussions that is easily mishandled. I may well reach out to friends to get their input, but then the posting will be dependent on their schedule... we shall see. Regardless of external help, the chapter will be prefaced with a warning.  
> The hiatus will be two weeks minimum, one month maximum. Promise. : )
> 
> You all don't forget to take care of yourselves!!! Thank you in advance for your patience, and past kind words! ♡ If you have any requests, don't be shy in asking! I do want to make this up to you all in the longterm.


	20. The Next Steps

“So, in addition to worrying about mobs and people being stupid, we have a HAL 9000 named Amanda.” Captain Fowler summarized, sitting on the couch with Sumo half in his lap. There was a glass of water on the table and while Hank filled his captain in, Connor was making dinner. Before the group even began talking, all three had checked the house for any signs of being tapped. No evidence left behind, and no planted bugs. Seemed just as well to catch the captain up on what was happening. 

“I dunno if I’d call her a HAL 9000… maybe closer to a VIKI.” Hank countered, sitting on the couch with Fowler. Unlike his captain, Hank had a glass of water and a can of beer. After the long day he had, Hank argued he could use a drink - Connor insisted he try to stay hydrated between sips. It seemed as good a compromise as any, and during it Fowler merely watched with silent fascination. 

“Either way, what you’re telling me is that either CyberLife is so damn busy cleaning up their own messes they haven’t noticed, or they have noticed and they’re okay with it. Which, honestly, I find both equally unsettling.” Fowler was running his fingers through Sumo’s fur thoughtfully, and the dog did not mind one bit. Instead, he drooled heavily on the man’s pants. “Hank… I honestly don’t know what to tell you. The feds want to take over the deviant case, Warren is talking about escalating this. Social media is on fire with people planning peace marches to support the androids, it’s on fire with angry assholes insisting all androids be shut down - like that’s gonna fucking happen.” 

“They’re takin’ the deviant case from me?” Hank asked, feeling like the wind just got pulled from his lungs. Right when he was finally invested in it, really wanted to take advantage of his position to help those who needed it… of course the government was ripping it from his hands.

“From us. But, that’s why I brought all your written files back. Perkins is a fucking tool, and I don’t trust him to not try and take what you have and burn it because it doesn’t fit his personal agenda.” Fowler explained, and nodded his head towards the box he brought in with him. Coming from the kitchen was Connor, setting down one plate of stuffed peppers in front of Fowler, as he had yet to eat dinner. As the couch was rather full with Hank, Fowler, and Sumo, Connor opted to grab a chair from the kitchen to sit in the living room with them. “Thank you, Connor.” The captain smiled at the android, and paused when he received a smile back. Reminding himself that in Hank’s reports it was mentioned that Connor was showing signs of becoming a deviant, Fowler brushed it off. This was either a sign, or the android had become a deviant since the last report. The most recent one was from four days ago, after all. 

“Well, shit Jeff, what are we supported to do with it? Oops, accidentally drop it off with the press?” Hank demanded. Holding up a finger, Fowler finished his bites first.

“First, Connor, this is amazing. Thank you, my mouth has been blessed.” Fowler hummed after he swallowed part of the pepper. Connor practically glowed at the compliment, and Hank reminded himself that it was silly to feel jealous. At what point had he ever even complimented Connor’s cooking? Basically never. He needed to fix that. “Second, I brought it here so it could be safe. But considering your uhm, door situation…” Fowler glanced at the front door, frowning slightly before shaking it off. “I might reconsider that. Listen, I’m upset that they took this from our department… but it’s also a blessing in disguise. You can’t investigate these deviants, Amanda, CyberLife, and dealing with public response efficiently alone. It’s too damn much. Let the feds deal with public backlash that’ll result from their dumbassery. 

“They’re poking a bunch of livewires on human and android ends. But now… now we have an opportunity.” Fowler paused for another bite. When he next spoke, he tapped his finger on Sumo’s side with each word, “Investigate Amanda. Do what you need to with her.”

“And CyberLife?” Hank asked, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes. 

“Eh, it’s a shit hole filled with entitled pricks - I’ll send Gavin to investigate. He’ll fit in just fine.” Fowler gave a dismissive shrug, but his tight shoulders gave way to the fact he knew this news wouldn’t be received well.

“Captain Fowler, if I may speak?” Connor asked. The captain nodded, giving the android the floor. “Detective Reed loathes androids. He makes rude remarks to all the androids in the DPB on a regular basis, and I have seen you cite him on several occasions due to harassing co-workers that work with androids.” A small hesitation, “Also, he poured the coffee I made on me. If he doesn’t understand how orders with androids work, then I am concerned for his competence elsewhere.” 

“What a nice way to call Gavin an idiot.” Fowler observed, nodding towards Connor. “Your concerns are noted, but my mind remains unchanged.” 

“Get the right people on the scene.” Hank echoed, watching Fowler. “Gavin counting as the right man for the job here?” He asked.

“CyberLife already knows where you stand with them. Connor reports,” Fowler stopped talking when seeing Hank and Connor both shake their heads at this, “Scratch that, Connor used to report to CyberLife, so they know you aren’t going in there because you have to. Gavin? He hates androids. He’ll go, because he’s told to. And even if you hate to admit it, he’s a damn good detective. They won’t suspect him, and I’ll pitch it to him in a way his interest will be piqued.”

“...I’m going to trust you on this Jeff, because you’ve never steered me wrong before. I genuinely hope this is no different than any other time.” Hank said, voice low and serious. He glanced over to Connor, who was watching him curiously. 

“As do I.” Fowler sighed, finishing up his stuffed pepper. Patting Sumo, he gently nudged the dog off his lap. “I appreciate you both and all you’ve done.” He said, watching the dog grunt before rolling off and trotting away to lay next to Connor. “If anything else suspicious happens here, let me know. We’ll relocate you if we need to. Maybe it was that Chloe that you helped earlier… but I’m not betting on that.” Fowler looked back to the door, frowning. “I’m going to leave the files here for now. Connor, do you know if Amanda has access to phone records?” 

“Amanda only has access to CyberLife devices. CyberLife specializes in androids, and they utilize their own towers for their network. Your phones and email are safe in theory, but I do not have files on the Amanda AI, either.” Connor explained.

“Cool. Anything you two learn, tell me in person. No messages or calls, got it?” Fowler asked, looking between the two and only nodding once he received affirmatives from the two. “Good. Now you two try to get some sleep. Or. I guess. Hank, you try to get some sleep. Connor, you… do whatever it is you do.” The captain directed, hearing a small laugh from Hank. Waving the two off, Fowler left. Not even waiting for the sound of the truck pulling out, Hank grabbed the plate before Connor could and proceeded to do the dishes. Not too far behind came the android’s footsteps, observing the human. From the corner of Hank’s eyes, he could see the slight smile the android had. 

It felt good doing something so small that could make Connor so happy. If everything else wasn’t trying to crash in around them, would nights like this become the normal? Not the part where their home (our home - ours, not just mine anymore) was broken into. The part where Hank was making an effort to take better care of not just himself, but the things around him? As he tried, Connor being nearby to help if necessary but still able to do what he wanted. Mind wandering while he washed, Hank tried to imagine what kind of life Connor would want if things were different. If they lived in a world in which an android thinking for itself was normal, and Connor could just… decide for himself. 

What would he want?

“We should pick up additional locks tomorrow.” Connor broke the silence with those logical words of his, that safe space of thought for the android because it was familiar. 

“I’m thinking ten.” Hank partially joked, but was equally serious. He was trying to not show it, but the knowledge their home had been so easily broken into was… unnerving. And on that topic, Hank’s hands paused. More flashes of memories. The time he spent with Connor had been so much these last few weeks, so many conversations and exchanges that blurred together. As he hadn’t been focused on it in the last hour, his mind brought forth that key memory. One he hadn’t thought in on ages, because where it had once been reassuring, now it had become terrifying.

When Connor mentioned there were others like him. When the android originally said it, Hank took consolation in it as it implied Connor was on some basic level aware he was different. Now, it spoke volumes of what Amanda had access to. There were other prototypes just like Connor, all waiting to be activated. All that had access to Connor’s memories up to the point where he deviated. Knew where the two were. Had the same capabilities as his Connor, except they had Amanda and her unlimited access to everything that was CyberLife. The only saving grace to be found was that Kamski was aware, and was hopefully running some interference. 

“Con… do you… think that this was another you?” Hank inquired, hesitating as he spoke because he was afraid of the answer. Afraid to even suggest it, but he was a detective and he tried to look at these situations from all angles. 

“I do not know. Amanda mentioned I was easily replaced, she implied there were other RK800s in development. If any were ready to be activated, or to what extent they are completed upon activation…” Connor trailed, worrying his lower lip when he was not speaking. “I would be surprised if it was them, as Amanda’s goal is to stop deviancy. It would make more sense for her to take the resources she has and to dedicate them to dealing with the RK200.”

“That’s the android we saw on TV - the one you wanted to know more about?” Hank asked, finishing up the dishes. Grabbing a towel, the human dried his hands off and took a few steps closer to the android. This was fine, he could be close to the other. There was nothing weird about that. Hank just enjoyed the android’s company. 

“Yes. Markus.” Connor nodded his affirmation. “...Where do we even begin researching Amanda? All of her program information would be locked by CyberLife.” The android wondered, LED blinking as he worked processors. Built up scenarios, wondered at contacting experts in the field of AI. 

“A library.” Hank announced, and shrugged when he received a quizzical stare from the android. “Why not research the woman that Amanda was based upon? If she’s a deviant, then she’ll likely take characteristics from her namesake. We may be able to reason with her, considering she’s more than a program.” He took his own logic, his own understanding of people and all the years he spent with them, and was applying it to a glorified computer. All it took was a couple of weeks with beautifully warm brown eyes, and Hank had already thrown everything he thought he knew about androids out the window.

“That’s a great idea.” Connor breathed, that worried lower lip being freed so the android could smile. “It may also prove useful to speak with some well-known programmers for AIs. They did not work on Amanda, but they may offer insight with how she works. There are a few located here in Detroit.” 

“...That’s… probably a better idea.” Hank could feel himself deflating, his excitement fading because honestly, why spend hours reading books when there were actual experts available to simply give them the answers?

“How is it better? Hank, it is important we understand Amanda as both a person and a machine.” Connor reminded the human, moving forward and placing his hands on Hank’s cheeks, thumbs running through and smoothing the graying beard. “Why can’t both of our ideas be favorable?” 

“...Because I like your idea better?” Hank countered, and though he was trying to resist he found his blue eyes staring into those damn brown ones. 

“And I like your idea better. See? They’re both favorable.” Connor smiled as he spoke, the corners of his eyes raising and damned if Hank had any self-control then as he pulled the android into a tight hug.

“Shit, are you sure you haven’t always been human, Con?” Hank sighed, his chest aching to do so much more but he would ignore it. He had to. Connor deserved better. He needed someone that adored him for who he was, not because the android took care of them. Hank saw it every time he looked in a mirror. Saw a man he called disgusting, pathetic, desperate, and repulsive. Saw a man that he knew could only hurt everything around him. 

“Yes, Hank.” Connor answered gently, hands still brushing through the human’s beard. Feeling the texture, running fingers along a jawline and learning the shape of the man’s face. The two fell back into their comfortable silence, Hank’s mind traversing all over but mostly just reminding itself that this was all he could get, all he ever would get. That he was to not take advantage of Connor, that the android trusted him with everything and he refused to break that. Of all the terrible things Hank did, he wasn’t going to listen to those nasty thoughts that flittered through, the gross pervert asking him to watch how Connor walked or how nice their bodies felt together. 

As the silence dragged, it occurred to Hank that the android was still running fingers along his face, his neck - as if trying to memorize him. “...Connor?” He asked, wondering if this was an android thing, a Connor thing… 

“I keep thinking… what if there is another RK800, and it pretends to be me… what if it hurts you… and how that would be like me hurting you… what if I’m not there to protect you, and it kills you? And the last thing you see is my face hurting you.” Connor’s voice was getting smaller, and it cracked. He wasn’t crying, but he looked ready to. 

Just seeing that, hearing it, made Hank feel like he was dying in a way.

“Hey. Hey…” Hank cooed, putting his own hands on the android’s face. Part of him wondered why they always ended up touching each other’s faces. A weird habit that Connor started, and the human found himself following. “Listen. I can protect myself. I didn’t become DPD’s youngest lieutenant just because of my good looks.”

“You do look good.” Connor said quietly, sheepishly, and Hank didn’t need the android talking so damn sweet to him because that was just dangerous.

“I got the job, because I’m a detective. I’ll know it isn’t you, no matter how much it looks like you. And androids might be stronger, but I can kick ass if I need to.” Hank assured Connor, and gave his best smile. His reward was the smile being returned, and he was perfectly content with this. In that sweet moment, that was when Connor’s skin on his face decided to slowly peel back where Hank’s fingers made contact. And so it spread from the hands and to the android’s face. That was a thing now, apparently. The surprise registered on Hank’s face, and the android was momentarily confused. 

“Oh!” Connor jolted, his cheeks dusting with blue and, of all things, the LED turned _fucking pink_ for two seconds before back to yellow.

Fucking. Pink.

The damn android looked like cotton fucking candy for an entire second, and looked absolutely alarmed by what just happened. Since when did LEDs come with pink settings? Did deviancy turn the LED into a mood ring? Was that how it worked? In all the alarm, the human skin returned and the exposed synthetic chassis was concealed again. 

“I apologize, that was, I am not sure, but you are very alarmed and I…” Connor’s breathing was increasing, and he saw the notifications popping up that his systems were overworking but there was no clear indication why. They simply were, and his scanners began acting of their own accord and started analyzing everything in the room. All the dog hair ( _need to sweep, need to sweep_ ), the grime between tiles ( _need to mop, need to mop_ ), the trash, the fridge was loud, everything - 

“Con, hey, Con, focus on me. Okay? Can you do that for me? You like order, here, I order you to focus on my voice only.” Hank asked, using his voice to break in and had to marvel at how Connor jumped from cotton candy to panic attack so quickly. Mostly because if Hank thought too much on what would happen if Connor panicked too much ( _flashes of the dead Traci back at the EdenClub, thirium everywhere and all over Connor_ ). 

“Yes. Focusing. Focusing on Hank.” Connor repeated, relief filling him as the comfort of an order gave his systems directions. Audio and visual processors focused on Hank, the listing system removed the impossible list of chores and was simply replaced with Hank’s request. Everything was going to be fine, Hank was there. He knew what to do. 

“There. Better?” Hank asked, and got a small nod in response. Blowing out a breath, Hank patted the android on the cheeks. Tried to be playful, to break the tense mood that had just blossomed from the moment. “Nothing to worry about. I didn’t mind. I take it as a compliment. That happens because you trust me, right?” He asked, not really knowing why it happened but the excuse was convenient, and it was less confusing to him than the alternative. The alternative that, when combined with Connor’s previous statements about Hank making him happy, implicated the android’s attachment might have been more than platonic. An idea that scared Hank, because it didn’t make sense to him. “Or, fuck, what do I know, maybe it just means your battery is running low or some shit… does it take a lot of power to keep the human appearance?”

“Not that much. And I don't mind dedicating energy to it, as android bodies of my production last 173 years.” Connor explained, pausing as he spoke. Hank could see the figurative (or maybe literal, what did Hank know of android biology?) gears turning in Connor's head as he registered his own words. Slowly, the android placed his hand over Hank's chest, a thumb moving over the palm tree checked shirt. 

_Oh_ , was all Hank could think. _Oh_. 

Connor kept insisting Hank would live to one hundred, reminding him that human life expectancy was longer now, better now. If Hank lived to one hundred, then…

“I guess a hundred years isn't that long, huh?” Hank asked, placing his own hand over Connor's. Almost immediately that false skin peeled back, and fingers placed over the human's heart. Connor's other arm wrapped around Hank's neck, the android pushing himself upwards to press his forehead against Hank's, their noses bumping and the human made several sounds of surprise because they almost -

“I apologize if this is not appropriate. My systems said this was the correct reaction, the proper response, but if it is not-” Connor sounded small and lost and scared, and it had everything to do with a sudden realization of human mortality. 

“Con, you're fine. This is the right reaction.” Hank soothed, free hand wrapping around the other's waist so he could rub the other's middle of the back. Sure, his heart was pounding because they were so close, but his focus was on how well he knew this fear. How he lived through that fear becoming a reality. “Do you want to talk about it?” He offered.

“I am not sure how.” Connor confessed, his lips so close to Hank’s. A fact that wasn’t important right then, only that the human did what he could to soothe his android. “I do not know how without hurting us both.” He continued, and his eyes were watering and of all the damn things, Hank could feel his own because he caught that glance. That glance at Sumo, that look at Hank. That horrible, awful reality that these were nightmares Connor suddenly realized he had, and in a way Hank shared. 

“That’s fine. I’m here to listen when you want to try.” Hank replied, pressing the side of his face against Connor’s. Tried to keep his voice even and reassuring, even though it wanted to shake with all those emotions he kept bottling away. His insides wanted to overflow, to break down because Fowler was no longer there to hide it from. But Connor needed support right then, and Hank felt like if he started going on about Cole the situation would be about him instead of the android. Didn’t want to be seen as self-centered to the android, because Connor was free to think and feel however he wanted. 

“As am I.” Connor said softly, as if he already knew where Hank’s mind was going. 

“Deviancy come with mind readin’?” Hank asked, finding himself laughing softly despite the tears and the aching.

“Hank, I have been by your side for twenty-five days, twenty-two hours, and thirty-three minutes.” Connor reminded him, holding the human tighter - but not so tightly as to hurt the human body. “And… now… thirty-four.” The words were playful, though there was a sorrowful edge in them still. “I have gotten… something of a handle on how to read your moods, your body language.”

“Yeah, well, let’s focus on you for a change, huh?” Hank encouraged, shying away from the attention on himself. 

“On me? How so?” Connor asked, removing his face from pressing against the side of Hank’s so he could look the human in the eyes again. Perhaps because he liked watching the other’s expressions, or maybe it was just easier to read him. Their noses bumped again, and Hank’s heart skipped a beat. The android’s eyes blinked rapidly, but the LED was’t flashing. Connor’s mouth simply fell open, the surprised visage an indication that he, too, felt his own version of a heart skip a beat right then.

“ _When I think about the times you smile now, my thirium pump emulates heart palpitations, and according to research that is indicative of a favorable response_.” Just as Connor had said, his face showing he was experiencing those very human physical quirks as a result of emotions. Was this codependency? Maybe some kind of accidental Stockholm? Hank refused to take advantage of this. He was just going to ignore it, pretend that Connor reacted like this to all people - 

Or he was going to, until Connor pressed their noses and forehead together, now so close Hank’s eyes crossed trying to focus on the brown ones staring back at him. “Why does your face feel like a magnet?” The android inquired, genuine and curious and fuck even breathless. Despite drinking all that water, Hank’s mouth was still dry.

“I thought we were focusing on you.” Hank tried to remind them both, wanted to pull away. Yet those big brown eyes kept him in place, and even if Connor’s face was too close to be more than a blur it was difficult to remember how to move. 

“...I am trying to make sense of what ‘wants’ and ‘needs’ are. When we’re this close, I think… this is a need? That I need to be close to you?” Connor was speaking his thoughts, sharing his wonders and curiosities with the human because he had been asked. The act was simple enough, but the content it carried was weighted. 

“Christ, Con, you can just Google that shit.” Hank was struggling to breathe, and the way his chest ached had everything to do with how much he kept holding that very breath. 

“Google says this is a need.” Connor answered, his search complete and Hank hated the search engine giant suddenly. The damn thing betrayed him. “You helping me, teaching me... that’s a want according to search results.” 

Oh no.

O h n o.

Oh no, oh no, oh no. 

Alarm bells were ringing in Hank’s mind, because this sweet moment was becoming increasingly dangerous as his mind took what Connor said right to between the sheets style of territory. Those words and that sweet whisper shot straight down to the human’s groin, the influx of emotions and thoughts were too much.

“Bed.” Hank grunted, breaking away from the startled and confused android. “Still tired.” He said tensely, disregarding his barely touched beer and glass of water. Sumo raised his head, watching the human’s retreating form along with Connor. Both were bewildered. The bedroom door closed behind Hank, the man trying to catch his breath and calm his heart. Those words were going to haunt him all night, and he did not want to have Connor walk in on that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was beta read by the wonderful ColorfulQueer. Thank you! 
> 
> Sorry about the wait. Still haven't gotten my buffers where I wanted them to, but that's what happens when the nerves in your face go haywire. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ Life throws curveballs sometimes. But I'm going to keep trying. In the meantime, was able to find an absolutely amazing beta reader. I hope you all continue to enjoy this, and that life is treating you well.  
> You may have noticed this fic now has a companion - "Possession of a Weapon." I am actively trying to ensure it is supplemental, not mandatory to understand.  
> Friendly reminder to drink some water (it might not cure bad days, but it helps with kidney pain!), relax wherever you hold your stress - whether its your jaw, shoulders, knees... unlock them, take a deep breath. Think about the sky, and know each of you are wonderful!


	21. Peas in a Pod

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: Discussions on depression, on suicide. Please read with caution.

Sleep did not come easy, and Hank hoped Connor wasn't reading anything through the door last night. Morning had arrived, his alarm going off because he had been trying to get up on his own the last few days. When he could remember to set the alarm. Since he struggled to sleep last night, he did set it. The loud vocals brought him into consciousness ripping him out of a far too pleasant dream. Grunting as he got up, hand reaching wildly for his holophone to turn the damn thing off, the last remnants of the dream began to fade. 

Just enough visuals lingered to be a tease, for Hank to retain an idea of what the dream was about and to know it was the source of why his boxers were tight. Again. Had last night not been enough? Alarm silenced, Hank flopped back onto his bed with a groan. This was ridiculous  
He was too old and too tired to be so easily riled up or so frequently. And it was all the fault of those damn brown eyes. 

Hank felt his cock twitch just thinking about the android. “You've gotta be fuckin’ kidding me… shit…” Hank groaned, reaching between his legs and working through the morning wood. Glancing towards the door, he took further relief seeing the door was closed. If this morning was like any other, Connor would be making him breakfast, tending to Sumo. Unless he decided not to, since he could decide such things. 

Hank tried to make quick work of good erection, he did. But the attempts at working it out wasn't happening. Sucking in a sharp breath, he took an uncomfortable, guilty glance around the room. No Connor, no Sumo. He would allow it, just this once. This was not going to become a habit, he would make certain of that. He let his mind wander back to the dream. 

Most of the finer details were forgotten, but Hank knew he felt Connor's skin rippling beneath him. The android making every lewd sound under the sun while Hank touched him in the dream, saying the human's name with that fantastic breathless voice of his. How in the dream, Hank spent an hour finding every hidden freckle and mole on the android. 

He could hear it better as the dream became less foggy, and the clearer memory of dream Connor's breathless, “Hank,” was the last encouragement his dick needed. Gasping, sighing, Hank melted back into his bed. 

And now he had a mess he needed to clean, and a shame that would follow him for weeks that he was jerking off to Connor. A shame that deepened as the human realized if the android was watching his room, which he probably was, would have noticed the… activity the human did. There was no privacy in his home, and for the first time this fact about Connor bothered Hank. 

There needed to be ground rules if they were going to live together. Even if Hank wasn't touching himself while fantasizing about Connor (though this fact did provide incentive).

Grabbing an old shirt and wiping himself off, Hank sniffed under his arms. Did he really need a shower? His mind wandered to just walking into the kitchen, where Connor was, of whom probably knew Hank just finished jacking it. 

To the shower then.

Not really wanting to be in there, Hank made quick work of it. Rinsing most of his body, washing where he felt he needed it most. Hopping out, he dried off using a towel that Connor had left in there. On the mirror was the sticky note about shaving. The lieutenant paused, inspecting his face. The beard needed a trimming. It was growing wild, and as the cold winter rolled in having too long of a gray beard invited children to call him Santa

That was not an option. Grabbing scissors, Hank started trimming, trying to mold his beard back onto the shape he wanted. Using a small trash basket to collect the hairs so none landed in the sink, he paid no mind to the home. This was long overdue, and he did get up early. There was time. Besides, concentrating on this was distracting him from this morning. 

From that dream. 

Finished, Hank took a comb he had lying around and used it to brush out any loose hairs. Cleaned up, Hank brought his dirty laundry with him out of the bathroom. Trotting over to his human, tail wagging was Sumo. “Mornin’, Good Boy. Con feed you yet?” He asked. The dog slobbered on his human's hand, looking very proud of himself for that. Hank simply wiped the drool onto his dog's head, politely returning that under the premise of pets. 

“He has.” Connor answered, a cheerful tone in his words. Hank froze. This was fine. No reason to be weird, he was a grown ass man, and Connor was… Connor. 

“Oh. Good. That's good.” Hank nodded, forcing himself to keep walking. Trying to not dwell on how stiff his own words sounded to his ears. “Hey, Con, I was… I was thinking.” He started, wanting to put the conversation somewhere he wanted it. To stop the android from any number of questions or concerns he might express first thing in the morning. Turning around from the kitchen counter, Connor tilted his head slightly at Hank.

He had his attention. 

“We've basically… been next to each other nonstop. For three weeks. That's not, I mean that's not healthy.” Hank tried the rational approach. Connor lived for that stuff, right?

“For two humans, yes. Your assessment of our time together includes before I became… this way.” Connor still couldn't say it, but he was at least falling into it more comfortably each hour. 

“Yeah. I was just thinking, we're living together now,” Hank's reminder garnered a warm smile from Connor and he forgot what he was talking about. Ground rules. Right. Clearing his throat he continued, “we'll both need our own spaces. I don't have a big place, but every now and then we'll want a breather. Well, I will. You'll figure out if you do or not.” 

“You want privacy.” Connor confirmed, nodding his head while he frowned and his brow furrowed. “You haven't been going to Jimmy's lately, either…” The android looked around the room, as if seeking something. Searching. “You need privacy.” Connor repeated. 

“Yes.” Hank nodded, tried to be patient but was growing concerned that Connor was struggling with something so simple. This was a human need. Connor had been researching those. He should know. This was a rare occasion in which Hank was being genuinely straightforward. There was something about his statement that wasn’t syncing up with the android. Standing there, brows knit and mouth thin, Connor was thinking about something. 

_Oh. Right. That_ … Hank realized what the issue was, why the other was having trouble with his words. It wasn’t that Connor didn’t understand, it was that he was worried. These last few weeks, Hank hadn’t exactly had the best track record when left alone. Clicking his tongue, Hank crossed his arms and regarded the other. “You don’t trust me.” The human stated, and Connor froze. Slowly, brown eyes looked into blue eyes. Searching, wondering. 

“I trust you with every life, except your own.” Connor answered honestly, taking the same direct approach Hank decided to use that morning. 

“Thanks.” Hank huffed, tightening where his arms wrapped around his sides as they remained crossed. Unconsciously his shoulders raised, and he released a frustrated breath through his nostrils. “So that’s how it is, huh?”

“I want to. I know you need privacy.” Connor started to explain, but Hank unfolded his arms to hold up a hand indicating the other to silence. 

“I get it. You don’t trust _me_. You take my guns when I’m home, you don’t want me alone. I’m a grown ass man, Connor. Just… fuck, I appreciate your help. Okay? But livin’ my life under a microscope is gonna drive me fuckin’ crazy. Like. Where do you even keep my guns?” Hank demanded, his voice a bit louder than necessary but he stopped himself from simply yelling. Connor was still learning, making sense, maneuvering from a realm of orders to personal choices. Getting angry at Connor for being a machine up until then was insanity. 

“I am not comfortable telling you.” Connor said, keeping that eye contact for as long as he could before his eyes pulled away. Wanting something to distract himself from how uncomfortable the morning suddenly began, his LED yellow, the android fiddling with the tie he was wearing. A long sleeve button up, blue, beneath a black sweater vest. If Hank wasn’t so frustrated right then, he would have found it cute. Instead, he wasn’t really paying attention.

“Not… fuck, Connor. I’m a goddamn cop. I have fuckin’ training out the ass for that shit. Okay, yeah, I fucked up a few times since you’ve been here.” Hank conceded, knew there was no way he could lie to the android about his attempts since the other got there. “But you’re you now. I’m not so selfish that-”

“Suicide isn’t selfish, Hank!” Connor snapped, looking straight at the human and yes - that was anger on his face. The android clenched his fists, cheeks puffed out once. Hank couldn’t find words, his mouth hanging open in shock. That was not exactly a kosher answer. “Studies show individuals that attempted killing themselves, when asked about it, never did it to be selfish. They’re that convinced the world is better without them, they do it believing it to be selfless. _You_ are too selfless. You refuse to be greedy or selfish. You aren’t selfish enough to accept compliments, to accept help, to accept love. You think you aren’t worth it, but you are. You deserve all of those things and anything else you can have.” The android’s heated words were tapering off, his eyes watering. “You need to be selfish, Hank. _I_ need you to be selfish.” 

A lifetime of teachings argued with what Connor said. All of Hank’s insides wanted to scream and argue, to tell the android he was wrong. But he couldn’t find the anger that he usually could, all the man could do was take a few shaky breaths before finding his voice again.

“Con… you don’t know anythin’.” And the dam busted down, Hank running a hand through his hair and the tears flowing. “It’s _my_ fault he isn’t here. _My_ fault. Cole… he trusted me to protect him. And what’d I do? I fucked that up. I’ve fucked up everythin’ since. I deserve shit? Connor, fuck I don’t… assholes that kill little kids, we don’t deserve nothin’.” 

Connor took several strides forward, cutting down the distance between the two. Hank tried to take a few steps back, base instinct telling him to flee. That whatever kindness the android was trying to give him, he wasn’t worth it. That he was wasting the other’s time. Reaching forward, Connor grabbed Hank’s free wrist and held on. A tight grip, a firm reminder that as sweet as Connor was, he had the strength of a machine. 

“It wasn’t your fault, Hank. A truck skidded on a sheet of ice and your car rolled over. Cole needed emergency surgery, but no human was available to do it. So an experimental android had to take care of him… but Cole didn’t make it. _None_ of that was your fault. You were the one who told me I couldn’t control everything - so I should like to provide the reminder that neither can you. The things you can’t control, those aren’t your fault. All the detectives who investigated, they all agreed. Going by track marks and witness testimonies, you did the best defensive driving you could have. Your side got the brunt of the damage, you did everything you could to protect him.” Though his words were stern, Connor’s tone was gentle. 

Connor knew it all. Had probably known all that since the beginning. Since Hank never wanted to talk about, kept Cole’s picture facedown, the android never spoke of it. The time finally came.

Hank wanted to pull away from the hold, but he was frozen where he stood. Taking it for what it was, Connor wrapped his arms around the human, hugged him tightly. “It wasn’t your fault, Hank.” The android repeated, pressing the side of his face against the human’s. The same way Hank had yesterday. 

“It was, though. The human surgeon, he was too damn high on red ice to do shit… I thought… I thought I finally got that shit off the streets, I relaxed… was tryna take a fuckin’ desk job, so I could be home more. With Cole. If I was on the streets-”

“In 1971, President Nixon declared a war on drugs. This is now 2038, and people are still transporting and creating illegal drugs for market. No one can completely eradicate them. You took a large chunk off the streets, a fact you should be proud of. It isn’t your fault that doctor made a poor choice, and he lost his license after that. No matter how you try to play the blame game, none of it ever becomes your fault.” Connor pressed, crossing off each attempt the human made to be the reason. 

“Con.” Hank said the other’s name like a cuss, flinching and closing his eyes when hearing how he said it. “...Connor… I have work, and this just…”

“I have been trying to find you a good therapist to see. It is very difficult.” Connor confessed, still holding tightly to the human. Refusing to budge, to let go. “Some are not part of your health insurance. The promising ones are not accepting new patients… but, please. Hank. Please let me help you be selfish until I can find you one.” 

“Connor, it isn’t your job-”

“I _want_ and I _need_ you, Hank.” Connor said thickly, and now they were both crying and it was Hank’s fault. He made Connor cry. It was always his fault, wasn’t it?

Not always, a little voice said. A small one, that Hank hadn’t heard in a long time. A hopeful one, because it was the small part of him that listened to Connor, that had listened to Fowler, and the DPD psychologist, and Chris, and everyone else that had been trying to tell Hank the same thing for years.

“Please be selfish and stay with me. I want to trust you with everything, but I need that foundation. I still get scared, thinking how many times I’ve almost lost you. You’re always giving yourself to others, and that scares me, too. Anytime you hurt, if you think I’m hurting... You prioritize me.” Connor said, and Hank’s heart dropped realizing that the android had noticed after all. “All the times I needed approval, you gave it to me… And never asked for anything in return. I get scared. Because I keep thinking how I don’t want you to go, that I don’t want to say goodbye. What if I take away your freedom with how much I fear? What if I take advantage of your kindness someday? I don’t know how to process everything, and I keep thinking I’m going to hurt you with how badly I want to protect you.”

What could Hank say to that? He could only stumble in trying to make sense of what was being said. Connor? Afraid of taking advantage of Hank? That was the human’s fear. That was _his_ fear. When the hell did they develop the same nightmares? 

“We’re just a pair of peas in a pod.” Hank laughed awkwardly, finally taking an arm to wrap around the android’s waist, while his other began wiping at his eyes. “Shit, Con, I’ve been living in constant terror of taking advantage of you.”

“...How?” Connor asked, genuinely confused. Hank wanted to smack the other, and himself, but resisted the urge.

How, the android asked. Seriously?

“Before you were a deviant, you would have done _anything_ for me. It would have been so easy…” Hank trailed, allowing the implications of anything that could have happened to fill the space.

“Yes, you are correct about that. But...If you had those thoughts, you never acted on them. Bad thoughts are normal, according to present human psychology findings. Intrusive thoughts will never go away, but what matters is the self-control to ignore them. And if you did have them, do have them… you’ve never acted on them. I am still learning if I will.” Connor concluded, and Hank felt the android face nod against his.

“Con. You care too damn much to act on shitty ideas.” Hank gruffed, the android having worn him down emotionally and mentally to the point he could no longer resist. All he could do was accept that he mattered too damn much to one android, who saw Hank as a selfless entity that needed to be protected from its own selfless actions.

Which was a bit how Hank saw Connor, and the human took a small offense to it. 

“Let’s just get one thing clear.” Hank began, and the android’s body tensed slightly. “You are the precious cinnamon roll here. Not me. Am I understood?” Apparently the internet long ago was not long ago enough, the human caving to the reality.

“I do not understand, so unfortunately you are not understood?” Connor’s confusion ran deep.

“Urban Dictionary, Con. Please. Use it.” Hank sighed, settling into the hug that was not going to end anytime soon. A few seconds passed.

“...I am too good for this world, too pure?” Connor sounded even more confused now. “It is a term of endearment?”

“Yes.”

“...Am I _your_ precious cinnamon roll?” Connor pressed, hesitantly.

“If I say yes, will you let me go so I can drown my sorrows in work that’ll hopefully save thousands of androids?” Hank inquired, finding the only exit he could see.

“That sounds amenable. Especially as you are channeling your stress into something more productive than alcoholism.” Connor agreed.

“...Did you just call me an alcoholic?” Hank asked, staring at the android. Connor gave a shy smile, merely shrugging and providing no answer. Thinking back on how heavily he drank before, and even now… the human let out a sigh. “Fair. Okay. Then… you are my precious cinnamon roll, Con. Now let’s go to work.” Hank sighed, trying to nudge the other off. 

“Yes.” Connor released him, and when they pulled apart the human could see the other absolutely beaming at him. “I am Hank’s precious cinnamon roll.”

“That you are.” Hank laughed, because of all the weird little things to get the android excited about, that was it. Reaching up, Hank wiped the tears from the android's cheek. Naturally, Connor returned the favor and wiped Hank's. The reciprocated action made Hank feel a bit like they were imitating birds. _And here we have a wild, emotionally unstable fat old guy engaging the much cuter cinnamon roll in some bizarre ceremony_ … “Oh, shit… breakfast.” Hank realized with a start, dislodging his own thoughts. Immediately the android turned around to grab the bowl. Connor presented it so the human could see the oatmeal was smiling, but so was the android.

“We’re both happy to see you this morning, Hank.” Connor said, perhaps a bit too excitedly. Pausing, another laugh, and Hank found himself grinning as well.

“I’m happy to see you both, too.” And Hank meant it.

….  
….  
…

It was still weird getting to work on time. Today was even weirder, as there was no Gavin yet. Neither was Tina, but her partner Robert was at his desk. On occasion, Hank heard rumors that Gavin and Tina shared benefits with each other, but he didn't buy that. Friends? Sure. Friends with benefits? Tina had standards, so Gavin was automatically ruled out. 

And also, simply asking required no detective work and Hank a few months ago needed to know. He was their lieutenant, and any rumors that interrupted their work needed to be quelled. Tina was a smart cop, and he knew she would only keep climbing the ladder as time went. 

Sitting at his desk, Hank looked over at Gavin's desk one last time before shrugging. Logging into his computer, he decided to look through any other cases he had. No longer on the deviant case, Hank needed to work on something. Glancing at some of the DPD androids, the lieutenant wondered if Amanda had access to those. Them? 

Connor sat on the edge of the desk again, playing with another quarter. 

About an hour later, Gavin was walking into the bullpen looking absolutely livid as he rubbed his wrists. Following behind him, trying contain laughter, was Tina. Gavin went straight into Fowler's office, while Tina turned and headed into the breakroom. A few pings made their round about the pen, a few officers feigning that they weren't listening to the growing volume of shouts in the captain's office. 

Walking up to Hank's desk was Chris, of whom had slipped in behind Tina and Gavin. “Lieutenant, you won't believe this.” He began. 

“Officer Miller, I appreciate you wanting to keep me updated however-”

“Please, listen.” Chris insisted, leaning in low and close. “I know you used to work the deviancy case, so I need to tell you.” He was whispering, and what he said caught Hank's attention. 

“... Please proceed.” Hank sighed, curious and cautious all at once. 

“I went with Tina to pick up Gavin. An android cuffed him to his own bed, ransacked his place.” Chris spoke so quietly, it took Hank a few extra seconds to process what was said. Once it clicked, he wondered if he simply misheard. 

“ _What_? No. How? Gavin hates tin cans more than me. He's nose deep in damn conspiracy theories about them.” Hank kept his own voice low, not wanting the entire bullpen to know. They'd have a field day with that knowledge, and Hank would instead spend the next few days playing damage control. “Did it break in?”

“No signs of forced entry. It seems like he thought the android was a human.” Chris shrugged, mostly indifferent to that part of the details. “I wanted to tell you, because… what if they’re targeting the guy investigating them? I mean, I know you're off the case now, but they don't and I just…” Chris glanced at Connor, who gave an encouraging nod. 

Was Connor becoming besties with Hank's squad everytime he took a shit? The world was strange. 

“I worry about you, Hank.” Chris said it. 

“... Yeah. Thanks.” Hank answered awkwardly, letting out a sigh. Grinning, he patted Chris's shoulder. “I worry about you, too. You got a son, he needs his father to stick around.”

“Four months old now.” Chris said with a smile. 

“Yeah? You got photos? You can't just say you have a four month old baby, and not show photos.” Hank tried to slide back into teasing, and was grateful he did as Chris's eyes sparkled. 

“You got a minute? Because I have a lot of photos.” Chris said, starting to bounce on his heels. 

“One minute.” Hank agreed. Chris moved so he was between Hank and Connor, letting them both see the pictures. Something of an odd decision, but perhaps Chris understood in his own way Connor was different. Or maybe he just assumed the android had always been deviant, and was fine with it. Either way, it was oddly fun looking at baby photos together with Chris. Watching Connor figure out the appropriate response, or the android asking why the baby was dressed as a pumpkin. 

“Because it's cute.” Chris answered with a shrug, not entirely knowing the answer himself. 

“Cute…” Connor repeated slowly, and then looked to Hank. “Sumo as a pumpkin.” That wasn't a request. 

“I'll see if there's any deals on pet costumes.” Hank sighed, wondering how the dog would even react. Sumo had a fit with boots every winter when the temperatures and snow got too bad. “Oh. It's not a pumpkin, but… hang on.” He muttered, pulling out his holophone. It took a few minutes, and some help from Chris, but he was able to bring it up. A three-dimensional photo of Sumo in his boots and sweater that hugged his body tightly, fur exploding out of the items.

“By the Goddess that's great.” Chris laughed, his own phone in one hand while the other covered his mouth to hold off on laughing too loudly. Sitting there, Hank could only smile like the proud fur father he was. 

“Are there others?” Connor asked, entranced by the sight. 

“Yeah. And I'm sure we'll have to bundle him up again when it's colder. We'll take selfies and shit.” Hank found himself promising, found himself smiling and getting excited by the idea. 

“You're gonna _have_ to send me those.” Chris laughed. 

“Only if you send me more baby photos.” Hank stated. 

“It's a deal.” Chris grinned, and the two men shook on it. Though more than a minute passed, the two men and android found themselves looking through more photos. Catching up, because it had been too long. Chris and his spouse were still happily married, and the photos to their ceremony were lovely enough Hank regretted not going. 

And then Fowler's door was slammed open, and Gavin stormed down the steps. “Fucking bullshit.” He hissed. Hank couldn't blame him. The detective had been working a case, only to suddenly be taken off and dumped into a less exciting one about androids… the day after being attacked by one. 

Realization dawned on Hank. Gavin took an android home thinking they were human. Gavin probably at least made out with that android. Sucking his lips in, Hank willed himself to not laugh at the other detective. That wouldn't have been professional. Deserved, yes, but not professional.

As Gavin marched to his desk, he stopped halfway to turn and stare at Connor. Squinted. The pause in his motions was short, and the man was now making his way towards Hank's desk. Chris put his phone away, the smile gone and he was alert. Ready for whatever form Gavin's anger would take. 

But there was no anger, just confusion. Gavin was peering at Connor, as if it was the first time he had seen the other. Did whatever android that attacked Gavin actually hurt the man?

“... Your eyes are brown.” Gavin said flatly.

“That is correct.” Connor confirmed, refusing to lean away, to give indication he was afraid or that Gavin had any power over him. 

“They… were grey, right?” Gavin asked, peering closer, frowning. “No. No, that's not right.” Growling, he pulled away and rubbed at his head. His eyes were bloodshot and there were bags under them - not enough sleep and too much alcohol last night. Connor could still smell it on his breath. With a huff, Gavin stomped off and to his own desk. 

“That was weird.” Chris muttered once Gavin was out of earshot, and then shrugged. “I better get back. You be safe, Lieutenant. Take care of him, Con.” He said, waving to the two before leaving. 

“...Con, huh. Did he decide that on his own?” Hank asked, looking at Connor. 

“I may have made a suggestion.” Connor answered with a smile, and then winked at Hank.

Winked.

Connor was winking now. The miracle of technology took every shortcut it could to make Hank's heart flutter, didn't it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Colorfulqueer for once again doing an amazing job on beta-reading!! Thank you so much!
> 
> Don't forget to drink some water, and to relax where you hold tension! (Shoulders, ease those. Jaw, unclench. Knees, unlock. ♡)
> 
> Summary of, "Possession of a Weapon": (For those who aren't interested in reading, no worries! Have a summary) Nines got Gavin borderline blackout drunk so he'd struggle recognizing them, the two went back to Gavin's place, and Nines knocked him out. Tied him up, and then proceeded to ransack his place. All in the name of helping Connor. Nines is Very Good Droid. <3


	22. Window into Amanda

Standing outside of the public library, bundled up in heavy jackets with thermals under his clothes, Hank stood next to Connor who was just as wrapped up in warm clothes. Two days had passed since their talk, since Gavin came into work late for the first time. Most of that time was figuring out roundabout ways of doing their research, which mostly consisted of Connor figuring out what networks Amanda had access to. The good news, was that while CyberLife had an entire network dedicated to allowing their androids to place orders, communicate, relay information… they still had no monopoly on the commercial networks. Not perfectly safe, these were safer. 

Today, they would be away from each other for the first time in three weeks. Hank felt himself shaking slightly, and not just from the cold. He could feel Connor’s anxious gaze, knew the android was trying to rationalize with himself that this was fine, everything would be fine. Watching the other, Hank couldn’t stand the idea of betraying Connor’s trust like this. Not like this. Taking the android’s hand, neither could really feel the grasp the gloves were so thick, but Hank could imagine that false skin peeling back, that synthetic flesh trying desperately to connect. 

“If something happens, you call me, and then Jeff.” Hank reminded the android, wisps of air leaving his mouth when he spoke. 

“The same applies to you.” Connor reminded him, giving a soft smile and squeezed the hand holding his own. 

“But, I am in a damn library. Con, you’re… you, goin’ to these hackers and AI freaks. You’d basically be their wet dream.” Hank stated, his free hand reaching up and pulling the green beanie with ‘Hug Dealer’ across the front in blue down on Connor's head lower, ensuring the LED remained hidden beneath it. 

“I will keep that in mind,” Connor said, one brow raised as he puzzled over Hank’s wording. “If you are uncomfortable with me going, would you prefer switching locations?”

“No, I won’t understand the technical shit they say.” Hank huffed and briefly, he considered just going with the android. No, they needed space. He needed space. Connor was more than capable of taking care of himself, especially now that he had the ability to make his own decisions. As a back-up, before they left home Hank even gave the android a set of orders if the freedom became too much. Ones that Connor knew he didn’t have to abide by, but could resort to if he became overwhelmed. “We can do this. You’ll be fine. We’re detectives.” 

“That is correct.” Connor agreed, gave the human a smile, and then pulled the other into a hug. Laughing softly, Hank returned the hug. “I will keep my eyes on the road and not rely upon the autopilot. Will that suffice?” He asked, lips too damn close to Hank’s ear. 

“Fuck, Con… just take the car. If you need to get out of there in a hurry, I don’t want you relying on those pieces of shit. Okay?” Hank demanded.

“...very well.” Squeezing the human gently, one last time, Connor released Hank before heading to the car. Should Connor have been driving an officer’s vehicle without a badge? No. However, Connor had Hank’s number and if an emergency arose the android could easily come back to him. The two separated, and Hank couldn’t bring himself to go inside until Connor was in the car. Until he was on the road. Until he was out of sight, and even then it took an extra few seconds to drag his feet into the library. 

The main branch of the Detroit Public Library had gone through remodels, expansions, downgrades, more remodels… as technology and environmental responsibility pushed for fewer physical books, Hank found himself visiting the library less. He loved the smell of old books, the sight of thousands of spines organized on shelves. Each visit there were fewer, that musty smell fading and books becoming a rare sight on the ‘fresh new titles.’ More computers were available in the lab area, an attempt to accommodate the growing need to function in a digital world. Tablets were available all over. The only areas that still felt like a library was the children’s area, and the records. 

The children’s area hurt, Hank blinking away the tears that wanted to fall. The records were what he wanted. Actual, physical records were exactly what he needed. Going to the older computer next to them, he began typing away what he was searching. “Huh. Everything’s been imaged… nice.” He nodded, grateful he wouldn’t have to deal with cheap paper ready to crumple between his fingers. Technology was nice in terms of preserving history. Thinking on it, he was looking at newspapers… which depending on the writer, could have been heavily biased. 

He hoped their personal biases wouldn’t affect what he would learn to figure out their situation with Amanda.

As it always begins, the information on Amanda Stern was straight forward enough. Born 1972, she was an inspiration to those around her as she fought against racism and sexism in the workplace of the nineties. There were countless articles of Stern calling out the men that tried to take credit for her work, tried to steal her theories and efforts in the realm of artificial intelligence. She was listed as one of the top five most influential people in the realm of robotics, paving the way for the ‘likes of Elijah Kamski.’ 

In his research, Hank ended up learning more than he wanted about Kamski. Began to develop an understanding of why Kamski valued androids over people. Parents that were never there, a family that repeatedly tried to cash-in on Kamski’s success. Stern was like a mother to him, a few photos showcasing in the newspapers with the Stern family celebrating holidays with a somewhat out of place Kamski in the middle of it all. The two met in 2018 when Kamski attended a lecture at the University of Michigan. He had a dual enrollment, and Stern was dedicated to trying to inspire the next generation of engineers. 

Together, they created the basis for CyberLife. The first few androids to set the foundation for what the company would become. In 2021 Kamski’s pride and joy was released, the ST200: Chloe. Stern praised the work, further pushed the importance of inspiring the younger crowd in engineering. 

“With androids tending to menial tasks, it will allow humans to research more, learn more. Think of all we can do dedicating our time to educating ourselves, bettering ourselves?” Stern was quoted saying. 

Leaning back in his chair at the records desk, Hank blinked his drying eyes several times. Most of this stuff was like a lost memory being jogged. Snippets he heard on the news, and as the papers covered Kamski more and Stern less due to Chloe’s commercial success, he was wondering what the point even was. In 2022 Chloe passed the Turing Test, in 2024 Chloe was interviewed on live television… Hank recalled seeing that. At the time, his young sci-fi loving heart was stoked. Watching the development of the ST200s felt like watching Data from Star Trek: Next Generation learn and grow. 

A lot had happened since then, Hank’s opinions on androids changed… and now, thinking of Connor, Hank realized it had all come full-circle. That childhood crush of his on Data apparently followed him well into adulthood, laying in dormancy until a very sweet android broke into his life. 

Shaking his head at those thoughts, he tried focusing again. Unable to, with a huff he checked his phone. The only messages he had was a reminder about the dinner with the Fowlers tomorrow night, Connor’s reassuring text the android had sent every thirty minutes since they separated that he was fine. There were seven texts, which explained why the lieutenant was beginning to feel hungry. It was past lunchtime. 

Just a few more papers. Hank texted Connor back that he was fine, mulling over whether he wanted to tell the android that he was bored. What if Connor thought that was Hank indirectly asking him to download everything and sift through it himself? In fact, why didn’t Connor simply do that? Did he pity Hank, the human unable to download everything? Deciding against complaining his work was boring, because if this was a job out of pity then Hank was going to do a damn good job to remind the android he had been doing this shit longer than Connor had been alive.

Which the thought gave Hank a somewhat uncomfortable sense of pedophilia. Connor looked like an adult, acted as one. But he was literally… what, maybe a year or two old? How long had he been in development? “I’m a fuckin’ cradle robber, shit,” Hank swore under his breath. Running a hand through his hair, letting out a low breath he tried to focus on the work in front of him. On the boring ass newspapers, no one cared about anymore. 

Flipping through a few more articles, the focus shifted from Stern to Kamski as time passed. Where Kamski was more invested in exploring the boundaries, Stern seemed dedicated to more humanitarian efforts. There was an entire line of androids, the KL100s. Due to widespread cost-cutting in nursing homes, functioning on minimal staff and environments that encouraged elder abuse, they were designed to help fill the needs of the seniors. These were Sterns creation, along with the first designs for officers in the DPD. Everything she touched the entire purpose was to make the world better. Versus Kamski, who was driven by a need to find if there were any limits to what could be accomplished. Despite the growing discrepancy in personal goals, the two continued to work on projects together. 

The articles took a different tone when 2027 rolled around. 

Detroit Mourns Amanda Stern

The math didn’t add up. Stern was born in 1978, only seven years before Hank. She was young. Doing the mental math in his head, he was… he was in his forties. Pulling out his phone, he plugged in the dates and did the math that way. _Only forty-eight? She was so young…_ Hank mused, reading the article, trying to see what tragedy hit her. Tried to make sense of why he couldn’t recall hearing about her passing, of why he kept thinking she was older than she was. 

__

“Right. Red Ice Task Force.” Hank realized, closing his eyes briefly and nodding. Those two years ate up all his free time, and then the years after it devoured even more of his time until…

No. This wasn’t the time to think about that.

“Amanda Stern was found… murdered.” Hank trailed, trying to process what he was reading. Immediately began pouring through, because this was the breakthrough they needed, but it wasn’t the sort of thing he hoped to find. He was hoping perhaps there had been a falling out with Kamski and Stern, perhaps the AI picked up some resentment from her basis. Instead, he learned Amanda was born when a Kamski, unable to cope with grief, created his first major AI. Kamski was quoted as claiming he couldn’t run CyberLife without Stern. Ethical questions were rampant in every article, demanding what sort of madman replaced living, breathing people with machines. Stock articles went over the loss of profits CyberLife was receiving, and the shareholders were calling for Kamski to “take a much-needed vacation.” 

Curiosity took hold on Hank, and he looked up when Carl Manfred got in his accident. The year 2030. Pulling up Amanda’s case, her murderer who had just been caught within that same year was going to trial. “Holy shit, they were made to solve Stern’s case…” Hank whispered. In the articles, a Detective Collins had accidentally slipped, mentioned the homicide division thought an angel was helping them.

That was no angel - that had to have been the RK100. Or Hank was assuming that was how the numbering system worked. After this, he needed to ask Connor. 

Amanda the AI was born from a grieving Kamski, her very birth spent watching the world mourn her namesake's death and her creator dedicating himself to finding the killer. The question was whether that was enough. Had any of that affected how she became a deviant? In his grief, had Kamski unintentionally made Amanda a person more than he realized? So desperate to speak to her again, he replaced her completely? That couldn't be it, the real Stern prioritized human life. This AI Amanda wanted missions completed no matter the cost, even if the cost was human life. The two were completely different. 

More articles, more papers. CyberLife turned things around, Kamski learning to move on with the killer behind bars. Made the company more environmentally friendly. Developed security androids to watch over CyberLife materials, to try and keep the active ingredient thirium out of the hands of red ice dealers. Kept working the KLs, advanced the line. Getting androids out there to help children in abusive homes, to help those who needed it most. 

None of that would have set Amanda off. What made her become ‘alive?’ What gave her a reason for living? 

rA9. 

Connor had said it was ‘reason I’m Alive.’ But that didn’t explain the number, and it didn’t translate perfectly. That was what worked for Chloe, did that mean it was the same or did the origin source had an effect on interpretation? Like the Bible and the countless translations that came from it? 

Running a search for Amanda and the number ‘nine’ there weren’t too many results. An idea hit him, but Hank’s fingers hovered over the keyboard. He didn’t want to see. Didn’t want to be right. Thinking of Connor, thought of how he could lose the android if Amanda was allowed to be free to try and stop all of this. Plugging in the keywords, Hank waited for it to load. Ignorance wasn't going to solve anything.

‘Stern’ and the number ‘nine.’ There were a few results, but Hank only wanted to see the ones after 2027. There it was. Their answer:

Stern Children Found Dead - _September 09, 2034_

Not just her kids, but her grandkids as well. A group of drunken demonstrators broke into their home, murdered them all. The police caught them relatively easily, and Hank remembered Collins talking about the case. Collins saying how sad it was. How horrible it was, someone would so brutally murder those innocent babies. Remembered it, because that was when Hank met Cole. When all Hank could think of was Collins’ voice, talking about how sad it was, that those kids never had a chance.

All Hank could think as he wrapped the frightened child in a blanket years ago, thinking how the child stood no chance against grown adults that beat him. That blamed him for everything instead of the red ice that turned them into monsters against their own son. All Hank could think, at that moment, was that child needed someone, and that Hank could give Cole a chance… if Cole was willing to give him a chance, as well. 

That broke Amanda. That broke Kamski. Shortly after the killers were put away, Kamski stepped down. Reading articles about androids, all the information was in tabloids. Photos everyone thought was shopped of ‘berserk’ androids. Articles about the elderly reporting their androids told them to ‘stick it’ and simply walked out, that these people never lost their android. “How could I lose it? Damn thing has a tracker. Called CyberLife, they can’t find it either!” One of the old women was complaining in the article. 

That was it, then. In 2034, that was when Amanda became a deviant… and started taking the other androids with her. Leaning back in his seat, Hank steadied his shaky breaths. Felt his phone go off again, probably Connor checking in with him. Right then, he couldn’t focus on it. All he could focus on was how for the first time, Hank actually understood an android. Genuinely understood them, connected with them. 

It was the first time in a long time, Hank realized he could empathize with someone about loss. And it wasn't just any fucking android - it was the first true AI. 

 

…  
…  
…

“I brought you a burger.” Connor greeted Hank, the sweetest words anyone had ever said to the human. In his opinion, right then, as he stood there with a hungry stomach and heavy heart, Connor was the best thing on two legs. Eating his feelings sounded great right then to Hank.

“Thank you, Con. Got a Hungry, Hungry Hippo detection app in there?” Hank asked in ways of a joke, the android smiling uncertainly at the reference. 

“I do not… how am I to take these sorts of remarks?” Connor inquired, a bag in his lap while he sat at the wheel. Settling himself into the passenger seat, it felt weird not being behind the wheel. No, more uncomfortable. Reminding himself that he could trust Connor, that the android promised to watch the road, he tried to let go of the need to control the wheel. 

This was fine. This was fine, he could eat this… seeing the logo, it was that damn healthy burger place that had been gaining traction the last two decades. Connor just couldn't stand the Chicken Feed, huh? Or maybe it was simply that the Chicken Feed was nowhere near either of their destinations, and Detroit was too damn big to just be driving all over. 

The fact it was a ‘healthy’ burger was certainly by no accident, though. 

“It's a joke, so laugh.” Hank shrugged, giving the healthy hamburger a chance if only because he was that hungry. 

_Oh no, this is actually good_ , Hank thought with dismay. This was it, the android finally ruined his taste buds. On the bright side, the android was nice enough to give Hank a pineapple soda… and a bottle of water, because of course, he did. 

“Is it funny because it is a reference to a game?” Connor inquired, tone curious as he pulled them out and onto the road. 

“Well… because you're an android and you can get apps, and because it's a reference, and I'm big, like a hippo.” Hank explained. 

“Big, strong, tenacious, and very cute.” Connor listed what he saw the two had in common, smiling as he did so. “Yes, I understand now.”

“I'm not cute.” Hank huffed between bites, ignoring the fluttering in his chest. Damn butterflies. Or heartburn. Or heart palpitations, whatever. 

“I fear you are too close to the subject in question, Hank. As I see it from a more objective standpoint, you're quite cute.” Connor continued, driving them back to the bullpen. 

“How can you be too close to yourself?! And objective my ass, you’re biased as Hell,” Hank grumbled. “Between the two of us, _you're_ cute and _not_ me. Look at me, I got fuckin’ burger bits in my beard, I smell like ass-”

“You smell just fine, Hank.”

“That's because you got me cologne, but underneath that, I smell like ass!” Hank shot back, trying to ignore the heat on his neck because he realized this entire time Connor was smiling. “Look at you, even being sassy you're adorable. What are you even smilin’ about?!”

“You called me cute. _Twice_.” Came Connor's simple explanation and that was it, Hank wanted out of the car. This wasn't fair. This was cruel and unusual. He wanted a lawyer.

“At least you know how to take compliments.” Hank sighed. “Tell me about what you learned. In Not Tech Savvy, please.” He requested, deciding to focus on his meal. That was easier if he wasn't talking. Not to mention, he realized the two of them were bantering. Almost playfully. Leave it to Connor to be adorably distracting from the shitty things in the world. 

“Hank, do you understand how cloud storage works? I know you use it for your movies and music, but I do not want to assume.” Connor inquired. 

“Yeah. Kind of. Honestly, I understand the legalities of ownership that comes with it better. I speak law, not binary.” Hank answered, pausing in eating just enough to give the other an idea of his understanding. 

“I see. In that case, Amanda exists within the CyberLife cloud storage - she's a big part of why they run their own network. The idea was inspired by the ‘Alexa’ Echo. With cloud computing, that is. The network was built to support Amanda, but to also ensure regular connections to all CyberLife products. While speaking with the engineers, I researched any public information regarding CyberLife data centers. There's… quite a few, and Amanda has access to them all. 

If we go to CyberLife headquarters, that might be the primary data center for their clouds, however, being a multi-trillion company they will have plans in place of disaster. Simply trying to shut down one data center will accomplish little, as a backup will immediately kick on. And Amanda is not a simple program, she's a person. I'm not sure ‘uninstall’ or trying to force her into a thumb drive are options.” Connor attempted to keep it straightforward and simple, trying to use terms he knew Hank as a millennial would know. 

“Basically… she's the final boss of CyberLife.” Hank summarized, nodding at his own wording. 

“Yes.” Connor hesitated in his response, needing an extra second to search the internet for a translation of the human's words. “Did you enjoy your meal?”

“You'd sure like it if I did,” Hank grumbled, noting the smile returning to the android's face.

“Yes. I would be most happy if you did.” Connor confirmed.

“Augh, yea, then be happy because I did.” Hank groaned. The rest of the ride the two listened to music, broken once by Connor asking Hank about what he learned. “Still digestin’ it. What I found out, I mean. And the burger, too.” Came his only explanation. 

Being able to empathize was nice and all, but what did the knowledge really accomplish? Furthermore, it only explained how. There was no use beyond that. Was it even worth sharing? At least Connor learned what they were actually up against. 

Fucking cloud data. It was so damn convenient, too. How could the cloud hurt Hank like this? So many movie marathons and jam sessions together, and this was how he was repaid?

When they arrived at the house, Hank remained in the car while Connor walked around to inspect, to see if there was anything amiss. The two had applied more locks on the doors and windows, but as they still had no idea who initially broke in or why they maintained caution. Sure, it could have been one of the neighborhood kids who finally got tired of Hank’s late nights and not letting Sumo out… but somehow, the human doubted it. That sort of mentality, the person would usually just take the dog out of the bad situation entirely. 

He was still convinced it was psychological warfare on Amanda’s part. Connor didn’t agree. The two remained at a standstill, neither able to prove their individual theory correct as no new information came to them. 

A text hit his phone. “Contact Captain Fowler.” It was followed by an image: the broken window was fixed.

Letting out a low breath all Hank could find himself thinking and saying was, “Guess I was wrong. Connor isn’t the one who fixed it.” Which begged the question, who did? 

…  
…  
…

“Sumo has gotten very good at ‘Sit,’ ‘Stay,’ and ‘Paw.’” Connor was going over the tricks he had been teaching the dog, his eyes slightly watery as he relayed them to Fowler. Of whom looked only marginally uncomfortable at how emotional the android was getting over Sumo. Meanwhile, the dog in question was thumping his tail on the ground, sitting but antsy as he wore his harness with the leash attached. Hank simply stood in the front of his house, arms crossed and trying to not shake in the cold, a numbness falling on him while Officers Chen and Miller went through the motions, filling out the paperwork mechanically. The two kept their visages as vacant as they could, but Hank knew the physical cues of discomfort. 

Gavin Reed being harassed in his own home was funny. For the force, finding out their Lieutenant was having his home broken into like this was disconcerting. Yellow tape was across the front, and a few neighbors watched from their windows with knitted brows and growing fear. Even if they spent the last few years watching Hank fall further from where he used to be, there had always been this sense of peace knowing he was there. Now, how were they to feel safe if even an officer’s home was being broken into? 

“Are you sure you don’t know who would do this?” Officer Chen inquired, her lips thinning as she spoke. 

“Tina, I wish I did so I could go arrest their ass now and save us all this awkward situation.” Hank sighed, a cloud of air following his exhale.

“Nothing looked out of place. CSI will be here soon to checking everything… in the meantime, did you happen to notice if anything was missing?” Officer Miller asked, shifting awkwardly as he did so. His warning to Hank a few days ago still fresh in both of their minds. 

Pausing, Hank thought about Connor’s observation. That the paperwork that Fowler left at his house, tucked away somewhere they thought safe had been rifled through. A fixed window. Taken care of dog… and an interest in Hank’s unclassified reports on deviancy. This had to be Amanda’s doing. There was simply no other explanation. Yet, none of the documents had been taken. Was it possible she sent in another RK800, but it retained enough of what made Connor, ‘Connor,’ it was simply emulating him? He so badly wanted to talk this over with Connor, but the android insisted on giving Fowler rather detailed instructions on Sumo’s care.

Sumo. Poor dog was going to be confused for the next few days. Hank couldn’t stay at home, and Sumo was too big to stay comfortably at the hotel the DPD was renting for him. Hence, Fowler offered to take the dog in. An offer he probably didn’t expect to come with… so many directions. For his part, Hank was numb to the idea of being separated from Sumo. It would probably hit him later that night, but for the time being, he was simply grateful the dog was okay. 

“Not that I noticed.” Hank lied easily, feeling slightly guilty not being fully honest with these two. 

“Got it. Thank you, Lieutenant Anderson.” Officer Chen nodded respectfully to him, the two pulling away to begin filing their reports. With another sigh, Hank walked over to where Connor and Fowler were. The captain would be driving them to their hotel. 

“Hey, Connor how about you just… email me a spreadsheet with everything, okay?” Fowler requested hesitantly, a relieved look on his face seeing Hank approach. “He’s, uh, very thorough.” He commented to the other human.

“Of course he is, he’s a fuckin’ android.” Hank chuckled at Fowler, finding some amusement in watching his friend learn to make sense of the other. At the comment, Connor seemed rather proud. For whatever reason made sense to him, and him alone. “So, we allowed to get clothes or what?” He inquired, nodding his head towards his home. 

“We can grab some clothes from there for you after CSI clears everything. Give me your sizes, and we’ll have the hotel staff grab you some pajamas and clothes for tomorrow.” Fowler directed, and then motioned to his truck. “Let’s get you out of here. There’s a shitton of rubbernecking happening.” He suggested, motioning the windows with slits of light coming through otherwise closed blinds. A few dings went off on his phone, and the captain sighed. “Thank you, Connor.”

“You are welcome, Captain Fowler. I sent you the spreadsheet and our sizes, as requested.” Connor informed him helpfully, taking Sumo’s leash from the man before heading to the truck. 

“Of course you did.” Fowler sighed and looked to Hank who was merely grinning and shrugging. “I see he’s settling just fine into… this.” To eavesdroppers, they would assume the man was referring to the break-in. Hank knew better.

“Kind of. He’s fine right now because he’s running on default.” Hank informed him, his subtle way of confirming to Fowler that yes, Connor was a deviant. The captain nodded his understanding, and all four of them got into the truck. The drive to the hotel was easy enough and consisted primarily of them updating each other and progress. Oddly enough, Gavin recently reported to Fowler that he discovered there was a form of cannibalism happening at the android dump that was extending to the murder of humans. 

A double-sided discovery to be used against CyberLife, of which asserted frequently that the dump was regulated. Watched. Guarded. That all the androids there were deactivated. While Fowler detailed Gavin’s findings, Connor sat in the backseat by Sumo wondering at the sensation of deja vu. That all of this was information he already knew, that was resting at the base of his skull in a cobweb of memories he couldn’t recall making. These weren’t the same as the Chloe’s memories, that sometimes flittered in. Uncomfortable moments in which he could see, feel, smell Kamski holding Chloe’s chin yet feeling as though it was his own. These were different. Listening to them, mulling over the bewildering sensation of thinking, ‘Yes, I knew this,’ despite not knowing how he knew, Connor’s LED turned yellow beneath his beanie. 

There was some back and forth between Fowler and Hank about the feds having a field day with the intel. A few questions if Fowler thought that Gavin would go to the feds about it, a question that Connor was also curious about. “Reed doesn’t give his investigations to anyone unless he has a damn good reason. Right now, he’s going to see Perkins as The Vulture.” Fowler explained. Glancing back from the front passenger seat Hank translated to the android,

“Brooklyn 99.” 

With a nod, Connor did a quick search about the show, and the character called ‘The Vulture’ in the series. Pulling up the informational materials, the android pulled in his lips realizing the similarities. The update on Gavin’s search complete, Fowler prompted about theirs. “Connor’s the one that found something useful.” Hank tried to shrug his findings off. 

“How about I hear what you both found, and decide for myself?” Fowler asked, quirking a brow over at the other human. He got another shrug in reply. “...Connor, go ahead and tell me first, please.” He requested. Shaking off the strange sensation that was still lingering inside of him, tabling the curiosity of why Fowler’s news wasn’t actual news to him, the android repeated what he learned about AIs to the captain. Listening, Fowler would occasionally nod, or hum. His face, for that matter, remained impassive. “There has to be an emergency ‘off’ switch for her. Nothing is completely automated. There has to be a back-up to switch Amanda off in emergency of a major virus.” He decided.

“That would make sense. The engineers were not ones from CyberLife, thus they could only relay to my theories.” Connor explained. His discovery aside, he watched Hank with growing apprehension. The man seemed okay earlier, but was everything finally starting to hit him? 

“Lieutenant Anderson, how about you?” Fowler prompted, using the other’s title to remind him that this wasn’t just a social drive. This was work. This was potentially people’s and android’s lives. 

“Shit… just found how she went deviant. Some things don’t add up, though…” Hank exhaled slowly. Mentally went through everything he found, and only shared the important stuff. Mentioned what would be relevant. He started out trying to keep everything concise and his voice even, but the more he shared the more he realized other details needed to be included. The full picture needed to be laid bare. The truck pulled into the parking lot of the hotel, but the four of them stayed aside as Hank continued telling them. 

By the time Hank finished, his words were shaky and he was reminding himself that this was Amanda he was discussing. Not himself. That these deaths were conscious actions of people, not a drunken mistake on an icy road. 

“I remember that,” Fowler said quietly, the first to break the silence. His knuckles clenched onto the wheel, frowning deeply. “I remember being pissed at how much the media was talking about ‘poor Kamski,’ about the future of CyberLife. Completely glazing over a bunch of crazy zealots breaking into a family’s home, murdering them. The news talking about how those murderers were suffering from losing their job, how it was happening fucking again…” There was an edge to his tone, and his knuckles were losing their color his grip was so tight. Closing his eyes, Fowler let out a slow breath. 

“But you know what, Collins and I made sure they all got life in prison. We didn’t let that family down.” Fowler continued, nodded his head once, twice, and then opened his eyes. “She watched it happen, didn’t she?” He asked, his question more directed towards Connor than Hank.

“That is… very likely. The Sterns were stockholders in CyberLife, and Kamski was close with them. I would imagine CyberLife security systems were utilized.” Connor reasoned, going more by an educated guess than an actual fact.

“I’ll look into what happened with the security system again. Actually…” Fowler paused, brows furrowing together as his mouth turned into a slight frown. “I think there’s a classified file about that night… I wasn’t there, but I’ll ask around. See if I can get info without alerting anyone.” He continued, and then looked towards Hank with a strained smile. “You did good, my man. We just might be able to reason with her, instead of shutting her down. Great work, Lieutenant Anderson. Oh, you too, Connor.” Fowler glanced back at the android, giving the other another slight smile. Almost immediately Connor perked up, a smile easily coming to his lips. 

At that, Fowler quirked a brow but saved his comment for later. The three men got out of the truck, and Hank and Connor both took turns saying their goodbyes to Sumo. The dog, for his part, didn’t entirely understand why he was being hugged and told what a good boy he was, but as with most dogs he was not complaining about the surge in attention. Or the fact he got to go on another car ride. Temporary farewells made, windows down partially and the truck remained running so Sumo wouldn’t get too cold at Hank’s request, the three went into the hotel lobby so Hank and Connor could be checked in. Fowler discussed with the woman in the front, and eventually, he handed a card key to Hank. 

“If you two need anything, call or text me. Understood?” Fowler asked, looking between the two. Both nodded that they did, the android with somewhat more enthusiasm. “All right. I’ll take Sumo home. And I know we were supposed to do that dinner thing, but… let’s put that on a temporary hold. Fair?”

“Fair.” Hank agreed, experiencing a mixture of relief and disappointment. He still wasn’t ready to see Aaliyah again. The last time he had seen her, Cole was still alive. The two kids were a few years apart in age, but they got along well enough. Sometimes he would ask Fowler how she was doing, but he wasn’t ready to see her. Speak to her. Would have to explain why he wasn’t able to go to any of her birthdays the past few years… why she only ever got cards. Fowler said his wife Amara was being patient with him, but Hank doubted it. 

“I understand, Captain Fowler.” Connor nodded, though his drooping demeanor made it clear he was somewhat letdown hearing this. 

“Please, just… call me Jeff. As close to Hank as you are, it’s weird otherwise.” Fowler sighed, reaching over as though to tousle hair. The beanie prevented this, simply sliding back and forth over the android’s hair. “You take care of him for me.”

“I take care of him because his happiness makes me happy. Please do not worry.” Connor assured Fowler, smiling widely while he reached up to fix the beanie. 

“Is that so?” Fowler inquired, grinning a bit between android and Hank. All Hank could manage was a few grumbles and rolling his eyes, crossing his arms as he did so. “You’re a good one, Connor.” Fowler decided, and as he walked to leave he paused by Hank. Whispered softly, “I know it isn’t my business… but he fucking digs you, man. Jump that Data.” He suggested, slapping Hank hard on the back as he then resumed walking. Hank jolted at the words and action, turning around to yell at his friend and boss. Fowler simply laughed at him, leaving the two respectfully angry and confused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another fantastic chapter edited and fixed by ColorfulQueer! Thank you again so much! <3 
> 
> On today's episode: plot, fluff, and plot-fluff. 
> 
> Necessary Summary from Possession of a Weapon: Gavin was investigating one of CyberLife's android dumps, and discovered some androids that were going so far as to trying to use human parts to stay alive. Nines rescued him, and they formed a shaky partnership. Nines is using the information Connor has, and since it is a two-way street, to an extent Connor is aware of what's going on but has no idea why. Gavin may or may not be currently being watched by CyberLife, and since Nines abides by Connor's mission priorities, they're kind of stuff protecting Gavin even though that's 100% bullshit. Bullshit I say.
> 
> Thank you for reading, and don't forget to take a sip of water! Relax those shoulders, jaws, and unlock them knees!! If you need to take medication for anything, here's a friendly reminder for you!! You're awesome and amazing and thank you so much again to reading!! <3


	23. Innocent and Intimate

“What did he say?” Connor asked, his brows and mouth turning into lines of worry on his face. 

“Just… stupid shit.” Hank huffed, shoving his hands into his pockets and being forced to accept that Fowler wouldn’t be getting an earful from him that day. Tomorrow. Possibly. “C’mon, let’s get to our dumbass room.” He sighed, and that was all the prompt Connor needed to follow after as he always did. The two walked in silence, and Hank knew that Connor was peering at him curiously, a tinge of worry ebbing into those glances. With everything that happened, and then Fowler’s comment as the cherry on top (Fuck, I forgot I told him about Data when we got drunk years ago… Hank recalled the memory; embarrassed by it, further embarrassed at having been called out like that), Hank was ready for bed. 

Ready to just let his brain shut off, to stop dwelling on Fowler’s claim that Connor ‘dug’ him. That was absolutely absurd (He’s only told me that I make his equivalent of a heart skip a beat). There was nothing about Hank that Connor could possibly be attracted to ( _Even though he’s called you ‘cute,’ went on about how ‘wonderfully’ human you were without a hint of irony_ ). The two of them weren’t even a good match ( _Because having fun even doing lame-ass waltzes or sitting around all day watching movies is symptomatic of a ‘bad’ match_ ). At the end of the day, Hank saw himself as a shitty person ( _But Connor thinks I’m great, and I trust him, so am I really that bad…?_ ) and he refused to take advantage of Connor ( _I worry about that, but so does he, and I haven't even asked him_ ). 

Opening the door to the hotel room, thoughts circling in him, after that last one Hank couldn’t focus on much else. Couldn’t focus on the fact that Fowler got them a nice room - one that came with a mini kitchen, one king-sized bed, and a couch that judging by its shape was a pull-out. There was even a tiny desk with a wheelie chair, the epitome of necessary items for a more business-oriented hotel room. None of that mattered because Hank could only think about one thing: _If I’m not asking him, aren’t I deciding for him? How is that fair?_ Wasn’t the entire point of wanting Connor to deviate, to help him get there… was so he could make his own choices?

Right then, what choices was Hank even giving the other? 

“Hank? You seem very distracted. Would you like to talk about it?” Connor offered brown eyes on the human and nothing else. Connor did have a way of looking at Hank as if he was the android’s entire world, didn’t he? Consistently providing the human with his undivided attention. 

Connor had no idea he was the source of Hank’s distracted thoughts. Those uncertain eyes, searching the human for more clues on what was bothering the other. Probably was assuming Hank was unsettled about the break-in ( _I am, but honestly I feel this more cements the fact I’m right and he isn’t_ ). Or perhaps was fretting that Hank was trying to hide how much he was stressing about being separated from Sumo ( _I trust Fowler with my life, I definitely trust him with my dog_ ). 

_I can’t, he’s still too new to all of this. Besides, it won’t accomplish jackshit_ , Hank reasoned, trying to brush his thoughts off. “Big ass room,” Hank commented instead, walking over to the bed. Laid out on the mattress were two pairs of pajamas. There was a note, assuring both of their ‘esteemed’ guests that when breakfast was delivered at six in the morning, sharp, their room service would bring fresh clothes for tomorrow. Grabbing the shirt and pants that were too big to have been for Connor, Hank made his way to the shower. 

Hank took advantage of the fancy hotel’s bathroom, enjoyed the freedom of massage-level water jets shooting from the showerhead. Sweet, glorious, water pressure hitting his skin. Unlimited hot water, no fears of an astronomical power bill to stop him from letting his skin turn as red as he could handle. Was glad to no longer have those thermals on him, because sometimes they got hot. Then he was sweaty underneath his clothes, and he could feel the chilly air now. 

The sound of the television was on, but it wasn't the usual sports that Hank once used for background noise. Probably Connor watching the news, wanting to be updated on what was going on. After the RK200 made their intents known, there came a silence. The silence was what was most unsettling. Talk shows went back and forth what it meant, guessing at whether things would get violent. 

_They will. There's never been a bloodless revolution, and dictators never listened to polite requests_ , Hank thought, reflecting on human history until then. The deviants were planning something, but they were likely observing CyberLife. The company claimed they had, ‘everything under control.’

Bullshit. 

Shower finished, Hank took a moment as the steam swirled around him that he had been taking these more regularly. Wondering at it, but not lingering on it too long, Hank dried himself off. Pajamas on, the man relished in how comfortable they were. Fowler was too good to him. Hank supposed he'd express his gratitude in the form of not yelling at his friend for that earlier remark. 

Stepping out into the room, Hank was surprised to see Connor unchanged. Did he not feel comfortable doing so while Hank was in the shower? “Con? You don't want to wear your pajamas.” He asked. 

“Oh…” Connor tore his eyes from the screen, glancing over his shoulder to look at Hank. He was sitting on the edge on the bed, the LED hidden from his turn. Not intentionally, it was simply more comfortable because of the angle. “Sorry. I, uh…” He looked away, fidgeting slightly. “I thought I should shower. I don't… produce smells really, but they'll cling to my clothes. Sometimes my skin.” He tried to explain. “Also, that Chloe. They're going to be on television again.” 

Everything was normal far as Hank knew, until that last sentence. “ _What_?”

“Channel 17 is having an ‘exclusive’ interview with them in the morning. I was… _programming_ ,” that definitely was Connor's nice way of saying hacking, “the television to turn on to that channel when it starts tomorrow at ten. Already notified Captain… that is, Jeff.” The android explained.

“Oh. Well. If that's all.” Hank moved away from the bathroom, motioning to it. “S'all yours.” He said. Plopped on the bed in order to rotate channels while Connor took his shower. 

Did showers feel good to androids? Could androids even feel? Connor seemed to register pain, but that made sense. If he didn't know when he was being injured, he could do nothing about it. But could he feel pleas-

 _No, we are NOT going there_ , Hank halted his thoughts immediately. He didn't need to know. It was that simple. He would just watch television and… “Oh come on!” Hank groaned, covering his eyes because a Victoria's Secret commercial decided to come on right then, featuring their fall lingerie collection. Which included rather sensual undergarments for multiple body types and genders. 

A corporate decision they came to only five years ago, which was painfully late to the game, but it still happened. And now Hank was trying to ignore the male model with a body type too similar to Connor's, showing off the sheer designs. 

“This. Is. Fuckin’. Bullshit.” Hank hissed between teeth. The commercial didn't end fast enough. Good, it was over. He could focus on whatever else the television would distract him with. 

A commercial advertising a marathon for Star Trek: The Next Generation.

With a growl, Hank simply turned the television off. Since when did technology turn so fervently against him? It was because of those anti-android bumper stickers he bought months ago, wasn't it? He pissed off all the electronics, and now everything was punishing him. 

Connor came out of the bathroom a few minutes later, his expression puzzled spotting the television off, lights on, and Hank in bed lying on his side. Hank's arms were crossed, and he was still frowning. Despite the size of the bed, he took only the left side with his body facing away from the bed. Walking around, Connor tilted his head looking down at the human. 

“Did something on the TV upset you?” Connor inquired. 

“Yeah,” Hank confirmed, refusing to elaborate because he wasn't going to let Fowler or those commercials get into his head like that. Nope. He has an iron will.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Connor ventured, eyes imploring Hank to say ‘yes.’

“No… but, thank you, Con. Just petty shit. And I'm not just sayin’ that. A show I don't care for came on. Little thing.” Hank tried to explain away. Standing there, pensive, eventually Connor moved away. Hank thought he was safe, that Connor would go to the couch to go do whatever it was he did at night… but then the android was sitting on the bed, a hesitant hand resting on the human's shoulder. _Oh no_. 

“Hank, may I… please touch you while you sleep?” Connor asked softly.

The android did not mean that the way it sounded. Mostly because this was Connor, and there wasn't a hint of seduction in his voice. Rolling over, Hank squinted at the android suspiciously. Leaning across the mattress, Connor watched him with apprehension, but curiosity. The LED was a serene blue for the most part, with bursts of yellow that grew in frequency the longer Hank waited to reply. The human let out a breath. 

“What… do you mean by that?” Hank finally asked. The yellows became more infrequent, and Connor's shoulders relaxed. 

“While you sleep, I'm usually petting Sumo. But…” Connor trailed, eyes flickering away momentarily in brief shame. That made sense. No, wait, did it really? Was that what Connor did all night?

“Wait, _what_? That. _That’s_ what you do while I sleep?” Hank asked incredulously, starting to sit up so he could properly stare at Connor. 

“Yes? Sometimes I would play with him. Or reinforce good behaviors, on nights you drank too much, you slept heavily enough that I could. I got… bored, I suppose, when I wasn't allowed to sneak out to deal with… dev… deviants.” It was the first time Connor said ‘deviant’ since he shifted himself from taking orders to making his own. And even though it wasn't in reference to himself, he still struggled to say it. That was progress, however small.

Meanwhile, Hank was reeling that Connor wanted to spend the entire night petting Hank because Sumo wasn't there. Did the android just really crave physical contact? Thinking about all those hugs… probably. “Sure. Whatever. You can rub my back, I guess.” Hank finally settled, hoping to turn back over before Connor was beaming at him all over again with a smile so warm it could melt chocolate. Too late. The smile hit, and Hank’s breath caught. Because it occurred to him that they would be sharing a bed. Together. That such a simple thing could make someone that had helped with so much made Connor so happy. 

It was odd, now that Hank was honestly thinking about everything. He had been so obsessed with not hurting Connor, not taking advantage of him, of anything and everything awful about himself that could negatively affect the android… and not once had he wondered what he could do to make Connor happy. What he could do to actually repay the other, to express how much he appreciated the help. To ensure the other knew Hank appreciated him. 

Well. There was one thing he could do that he knew Connor enjoyed…

“Actually. You know what? Fuck it. You wanna hold my hand while I sleep?” Hank offered, feeling the heat crawling along his neck as the words left his mouth. Connor’s mouth opened slightly, brown eyes going as wide as they could. As if running purely on emotion instead of whatever actually powered androids, Connor sucked in his lower lip and nodded eagerly. Not even bothering with providing a verbal response, the android scooted closer and laid on his side so he could take Hank’s hand that was on the mattress. Now they were both lying on their sides, facing each other, perhaps too close for the human’s liking (entirely because he was relishing it too much).

Connor continued to glow, smiling away as his hands peeled back that superficial skin and ran those bluish white fingers over Hank’s hand. Savoring the contact, brown eyes focused entirely on exploring little more than five fingers, a palm, and part of a wrist. In an attempt to not let the android’s fascination with holding his hand fluster him too much, Hank tried to break the moment. “You know you can ask me for shit, right? Like… I dunno, fuck, oil for your joints or somethin’.” He tried to break it with something ridiculous, knowing full well that Connor wouldn’t need oil. But it was hard to focus, to fully derail it because damn if Connor wasn’t so damn pleased with what he was given. 

“I do not require oil, Hank,” Connor answered him, smile perfectly content but his lips quirked slightly in what was possibly good humor. That was just enough to make Hank wonder what he sounded like when he laughed. 

It probably sounded sweet, like bells or some shit. 

Fucking androids. 

_More like personal bias. Remember when you thought he was just this goofy-looking, nasally-sounding uptight robot?_ Hank’s mind reminded him. That was… he couldn’t exactly argue with that. Because now, looking at the android all Hank could think was how endearing the other was. How adorable and sweet and handsome Connor was in everything he did. How unfair it was that the android was made looking so wonderful… and yet, his memories reminded him that Hank didn’t always think that about the other. 

“But if… I may ask you for things…” Connor began speaking again, brown eyes focused entirely too much on their hands. An almost hint of blue on his cheeks, slight yellow light reflecting from his LED onto the bedsheets. Though he knew better, Hank found himself holding his breath. Hoping for something absolutely impossible. “Could… could we talk? For a while?” 

Hank knew better than to hold his breath. 

“Yeah. Sure. Whatcha wanna talk about?” Hank asked anyway, because the android didn’t ask for much, and like Hell, he was going to discourage the other the first time he did. Connor looked up at him, smiled, and let out a soft sigh before settling his head into a pillow. 

“You. I want to you know about you… from you. I know everything your records say. Everything that was released in the press, what I learned from analyzing your home from before. It’s all memorized, and logged in… but I’ve never heard about you from you. You’ve never mentioned your family. Never received a call from your mother or father… I don’t know why. The only friend from school you’ve talked about is Ca-... _Jeff_. You have a _tattoo_.” Connor spoke quietly, his words carrying easily from his mouth and into Hank’s ears. The android took one of his hands to press against Hank’s chest, a finger tapping where some black ink was exposed from the top two buttons on the pajama top remaining unbuttoned. “But… you don’t seem to like discussing such topics. So I do not wish to obligate you if these would upset you.” 

“You like heavy subjects, don’t you?” Hank asked, laughing softly. Took his free hand, ran it through his hair and blew out a breath. The android made a small sound, his brows turning upward and it was definitely one of distress. The human chuckled again. “It’s fine. Most of your questions are old news. Don’t bother me none. When I was… ah, fuck, fourteen? Fifteen? Anyway. I realized I was gay. Terrified to tell my parents, because it wasn’t even the 2000s yet and everyone was having a meltdown about Y2K shit, and people still thought sending your kid off to a boot camp to beat the gay away wasn’t abuse. I tried to keep quiet. Tried to be every bit a ‘man’ as my parents saw it, to date girls, but… I couldn’t do it. Couldn’t live my life as a lie. So when I was eighteen, I told them. And they kicked me out.” Hank shrugged. 

“Told me never to contact them again. Jeff was nice enough to let me crash with him a bit. His parents trusted him, and he trusted me, so… yeah. He saved my life. We, uh, got matching tattoos on our shoulder blades at the academy together. This one,” Hank started to unbutton the top he had, only to pause. Connor would see his belly rolls, his flab. The stretch marks from where he gained weight too quickly when he started drinking too heavily for his body to keep up with. The hairs on his chest and stomach, some of which obscured the tattoo. Connor would see it all. Blue eyes glanced at the android, who was watching him with a curious gaze. Brown eyes that were more interested in seeing the tattoo, in occasionally flicking to Hank’s face to search for any signs of discomfort.

Thought about how insistent Connor had been, that Hank being fat did nothing to dampen the fact the android found him… cute. Connor thought he was cute. And he didn’t say it in an infantilizing way, or in a demeaning way. Simply looked at Hank and thought, ‘cute,’ the same way Hank looked at Connor and said the same thing. 

Sucking in a breath, Hank finished unbuttoning it low enough the android could see the entirety of the chest tattoo. The ink was faded since it had been years since the man got it touched up. The lines slightly distorted, since when Hank had it done his muscles had been more defined, his skin had more elasticity. None of that mattered to Connor about how it must have looked when first inked, because the android’s immediate reaction was to reach forward and touch the faded black lines. To run those pale fingers along, tracing it almost reverently. 

“Did it hurt? Databases state chest tattoos can be very painful.” Connor worried, his fingers continuing to trace along. There was no such thing as personal space to the android, apparently. At least not when it came to Hank. _Take my shirt partially off, and he immediately thinks it’s an invite to touch_ , the human tried to think of it angrily. To be annoyed at how privileged the android apparently felt to Hank’s body. But he could only feel flattered, knowing the android simply couldn’t help himself. 

“I was more built then, more attractive then, but yeah… it still hurt. Took about three sessions to get it just right. Mostly the shading added the extra.” Hank elaborated a bit more on it, and then found himself curiously asking, “Do you know if androids can get tattoos?”

“You’re still very attractive, Hank. And I am sure we will be able to, once we are considered a market to be targeted.” Connor reasoned, but he didn’t do any research. He didn’t want to spend much time browsing the online world for answers, not when he had a Hank lying right next to him, willing to talk to him. To tell Connor about himself. No longer tracing the lines, Connor placed his palm against the human’s chest. Feeling the heartbeat that hastened from his words, the rise and fall of the human’s chest as he breathed. Those wonderful signs of living. The android let his eyes flutter closed, and sighed in contentment. “Your parents are missing out on something very wonderful.” Connor decided.

“A drunk asshole of a son?” Hank asked, quirking a brow. Glancing down at the hand. Connor was now officially holding one of Hank’s hands and his chest hostage. Apparently, this was how the human was going to sleep. 

“A wonderful man that makes the world better everywhere he goes. One who’s always making _my_ world better.” Connor sighed again, opening his eyes so he could gaze warmly at Hank. So he could smile at the human. Clearing his throat and muttering something, Hank looked away. Tried to ignore the burning that had spread to his ears. “Thank you. For telling me.”

“Yeah. O-of course. Not like you ask for much.” Hank muttered, tried to look at the area above Connor’s head. Tried to ignore the fact the android had to notice his pulse was quickening, his heart beating faster. That every second he was embarrassed, the other would simply know. 

“I don’t have to. You’ve always given me so much.” Connor whispered, finally peeling his hand away from the human’s chest. The hand he had been holding, Connor lifted it up and pressed Hank’s palm against the soft flesh just beneath the android’s… sternum? The solid feel implied that this was a breastbone, but Hank wasn’t confident in his understanding of android anatomy. On a person, the hand would have been where the stomach was, but Hank knew that while Connor shared similar enough physiology with humans… androids didn’t eat. There was no stomach. 

Apparently, they were just… going to touch each other’s chests. In bed. Yes, this was a perfectly normal night for Hank and Connor. 

Feeling the dip, it came back to Hank. “Oh! That’s… right. Right, fuck, I forgot.” Hank breathed out heavily, memory catching up to the symbol of the act. At Stratford Tower. That was right. Hank found Connor, ready to shut down. If it hadn’t been for him if Hank hadn’t arrived… “Your heart thing.”

“Thirium pump.” Connor corrected, lips quirking slightly with a smile. “Biocomponent #8456w.”

“Con, look… I helped you out because I care about you.” When Hank said it, he was trying to keep the situation platonic. The fact Connor perked up hearing him actually say it, simply made him feel silly. Almost childish. “I’ve… I’ve lost enough in my life. I couldn’t… I wasn’t going to lose someone I cared about, again.” 

“You would have helped me, even if you didn’t care about me. Because that’s the sort of selfless person you are.” Connor reminded him, sighing. Suddenly looking too tired to be anything but human. Androids never looked that exhausted, but this one did right then. “But I was more… wondering if you wanted to see the inside? I can’t let you inside figuratively… I didn’t have a life until you found one in me. But I can literally. Let you inside. I mean, that is, the chassis. My chest. This.” Stumbling over his words, fidgeting, trying to over-correct with language that clarified statements that could be misconstrued. Was it finally clicking to Connor how some of what he said came across as? 

The two lay in uncomfortable silence.

“That was weird of me. I am sorry. I’m still trying to… figure this out. I apologize Hank.” Connor said in a rush, starting to pull Hank’s hand away. A shyness to him that the human wasn’t accustomed to seeing, which made it more alarming than much else. Where did the sudden awareness come from? 

“No, you’re fine. I was just surprised, was all.” Hank found himself trying to soothe the other, making his hand remain because yes, yes it was weird. But Connor was trying and… what was the harm? If he knew how Connor worked, then if something happened to the android, perhaps he could help him. Just thinking about finding Connor on the verge of death made his stomach churn, his eyes water. The weirdness of literally being able to see inside the android’s rib cage would be a good distraction from the upsetting memory. 

Magic words spoken, Connor wasted no time in shimmying out of his pajama top. That shyness was gone, replaced by an awkward enthusiasm to… apparently, show off his state-of-the-art hardware. He was always kind of proud of being the ‘latest and greatest.’ _I should probably try to sound smart and say he looks fancy on the inside. Is that weird? I guess it would be for another person. “Hey you, your heart looks very shiny and expensive.” Wow, this is fucking weird holy shit_ , Hank’s thoughts rambled, his attention on the bizarre night he was finding himself in. Effectively distracted from Fowler’s words, from the fact his home had been broken into twice, from the fact that Connor was covered in those delicious freckles and he had more moles…

...that when he mentioned he had primary and secondary sex characteristics, yes, that included nipples.

Was now trying to focus on the way Connor pressed onto his own abdomen to open his stomach, to distract himself from the fact that the android in front of him still had those primary sex characteristics. That didn’t matter. That didn’t matter. Hank was not thinking about that. Totally and definitively NOT thinking about it (okay, he was, just a little).

It was definitely bizarre being able to see inside someone, and them acting as though this was perfectly normal. The interior was different from the Traci model that Hank had watched Connor temporarily reconnect. The wiring, that Hank could recall, was a bit different. The thirium pump was working just fine, glowing blue and ensuring the flow. Just as Connor had mentioned, wedged on the right side of his version of a rib cage were slots for evidence. There were several bags with the samples of blue blood Connor took in the past. But what stood out the most? Two guns. 

Two guns that happened to belong to a Hank Anderson. Neither were wrapped in a bag, and the human took what little reassurance one could take in the knowledge those didn’t get there via Connor eating them. On that note, Hank noticed there were tubes above and below the compartments. One that led to the android’s throat and the other… from… lower.

Right. Hank was just going to not think about that.

Instead, he nodded to the guns. “Seriously? That’s where you keep them?” Hank inquired, raising a disbelieving brow.

“I would very much enjoy seeing you attempt to remove them from my person, now that you know,” Connor said, smiling slightly.

“This is a really fuckin’ weird way of telling me, Con.” Hank laughed softly. His eyes moved away from the evidence chamber, wondering at how he was supposed to compliment the other’s design. “You’re very, uh, sleek, in there.” Was all he could manage. _I’m not tech-savvy enough for this_ , Hank thought. All the same, the words garnered a happy sound from the android. A small enough victory. 

Blue eyes tried to locate something worth commenting, so be could also say a compliment to make Connor melt the way Jeff’s comment about the food had. Not that Hank was still low-key jealous about that. His eyes caught onto something, but it wasn’t a design or feature that merited immediate comment. To the left of the evidence section, there was a faint red light. An actual, functioning, beating heart. “I thought this was your hea-” Hank started to say, reaching to touch the thirium pump without thinking.

The android jolted when Hank’s fingers brushed the pump, and Hank could actually see, with his own two eyes, Connor’s pump and the red heart skip their pulses. The way they paused, twitched, tried to remember how to function. The chassis casing snapped shut, bumping Hank’s hand as it did. Connor’s eyes were wide, his jaw slack while his hands went to the bed, steadying himself after he crumpled onto it. 

“Shit, Con, sorry, I didn’t! Fuck, did I hurt you?” Hank asked, maneuvering so he could sit up, try to check on the android.

“No. I am undamaged.” Connor assured him, taking shaky breaths that he didn’t need. 

“Okay, when you say undamaged that’s usually code for you’re not on death’s edge, but something’s wrong.” Hank pressed, trying to peer at the android’s face. There was a flush of blue. What in the…?

“Yes. Usually, yes.” Connor agreed, having at least enough decency to not lie about it. “That was just… _unexpected_ in that it was… not unpleasant.” 

“Meaning…?” Hank asked, not sure how to take the android’s words.

“I… I am very startled. Please give me a moment.” Connor requested, still struggling with calming himself down from… whatever just happened. To be fair, Hank imagined he would be pretty shaken up too if someone decided to just reach forward and grab a vital organ of his. As the other requested a moment to gather his bearings, Hank opted to give him just that. To try and make sense of the weird moment the two just shared. It was getting late. Hank should have been feeling tired after how his night went, but he just… couldn’t. There were too many thoughts right then, some of which were actually good ones. 

Positive words from Connor, kind ones. Genuine words. Ones that stuck to his brain, and refused to let go. 

“Con?” Hank asked, his mind suddenly feeling very detached from his body. There wasn’t a response. A slow realization was sinking in. The android used a double-negative. Connor was always very conscious of his words, aware enough of how to speak to Hank and be understood. Didn’t always stick to perfect English, because the android knew that manner of speech wasn’t how to best communicate with Hank. Spoke concisely, tried to use his words to mask what he thought needed to be hidden, or worded to ensure he was not misunderstood. 

The blushing. The weird wording. A translation hit Hank’s mind: _I was startled by how good that felt_.

However unintentional, the human had just made their bonding moment infinitely more intimate than either had anticipated, and Connor right then was grappling with that. “Connor?”

“I am fine, Hank,” Connor assured him, assuming the other was asking after him. 

“Did I just… grope you?” Hank asked, wondering at the unusual world of android physiology. There was a sound, odd, choked, and Hank’s mind immediately went to the fact that yes, he had. He had sexually harassed the one person he was trying to protect from that sort of assault. That now Connor was crying, unable to cope with the betrayal of trust. How was he supposed to comfort the other? Console him? How was he…

...that wasn’t crying.

“Con, are you _laughing_?” Hank asked, staring. Another sound, followed by a brief snort. 

“I - think - maybe,” Connor said between snorts, trying to figure out how he was laughing, how to laugh, in the middle of actually experiencing the small laughs. 

“Shit, I’m over here about to freak out I traumatized you, and your ass is laughin’.” Hank huffed but was grinning as the relief washed over him. “I'm tryna be mad, but that's the first time I heard you laugh, so it's kind of hard…”

“I apologize, Hank,” Connor said, calming the snorts he made. Sitting up once more, Connor easily slid the pajama top back on so he could button it back up. There was a faint smile on his lips. “The last time my pump was touched, it had been done so with malintent. I expected it to… hurt again. Instead, it simply felt…” He paused, searching for the right word. “Intimate.” He looked at Hank, expression thoughtful. As if considering something. Perhaps if that was a bad thing? 

If Connor was smart, he would decide that it was certainly a bad thing. 

Instead, Connor leaned forward, bumped his nose against Hank’s. Still lying there, Hank’s mind tried to process the sudden closeness. Stumbled in trying to connect how the android went from calling a literal invasion of his insides a form of intimacy to pressing their faces together, lips barely apart. Separated by barely an inch, yet feeling miles apart. The closeness was painful. Every part of Hank’s chest ached, and it had nothing to do with poor choices Hank had made, that he could control of. 

“Hank…” Connor whispered, letting the name trail off in one of those delectable breathless whispers. The human could feel his breathing hitch and was trying to write this off. Trying to ignore it. Trying to call this moment anything he could except what it was. “A voice keeps telling me I want to kiss you. But it isn’t my own. I don’t always know what I want or need… but I think it’s right. I think I do. Would that upset you?” 

Nothing in Hank’s brain could deny what was happening any longer. No excuses could brush off Connor’s actions, could refute his words into meaning something different, something innocuous. Three weeks ago, Hank would have refused. Would have screamed how terribly cruel this was, yelled at Connor that of course, he was upset. He was being teased, being mocked. Hank from three weeks ago wasn’t trying to get better. Didn’t have a reason to. Now there was a world in which androids needed allies in order to be free. Now there was a world in which Hank could see people wanted to try for him if he would let them again. 

Now there was a Connor, capable of making his own decisions. And his decisions right then included wanting to kiss Hank. 

“I have been upsettin’ myself for ages, by tryna convince myself I didn’t want to kiss you,” Hank assured Connor, deciding he wasn’t going to deny himself any longer. And like hell, he was going to refuse _Connor_. The two barely had to turn their heads, and their lips touched. Years. Years had come and gone since Hank had kissed anyone romantically. While Cole was growing up, Hank had given his son countless platonic kisses on the cheek, on the forehead. Continued to give those same style kisses to Sumo after there no longer was a Cole to spoil with them. 

This was different. It was warm, and Connor’s lips were a sort of unnatural soft. Too soft to be realistic, because another human’s lips would have been dry and chapped. There was no wondering at what Connor thought of Hank’s lips because the android pressed his face against the human’s more. To maximize as much contact as possible, sighing between each kiss. Pausing between them, a goofy grin tugging the corners of Hank’s mouth more heavily to the left side of his mouth, Hank had to say, “I’m surprised. Thought your mouth would do the same thing as your hands.” He was referring to the skin peeling back, revealing the android flesh beneath. 

Connor shrugged softly, only to move in to kiss Hank again. And again, and again, the android humming softly with each kiss he pressed against the human’s mouth. A hand snaked down, taking Hank’s into it. The skin peeled back, exposed and caressing the human flesh it could touch, it could feel. _Cheeky_ , Hank thought, laughing softly between each kiss. “You can’t do this all night, I’m gonna need sleep.” He chuckled. Undeterred, Connor shifted so his torso was on Hank’s. A few more kisses, and with a content sigh the android tucked his head under Hank’s chin. Kept their hands clasped, intertwining their fingers. 

“Is it possible to sleep this way?” Connor inquired softly, hopefully.

“Yeah…” Hank sighed, feeling his body melt into the mattress. Felt as though Connor’s weight on him would keep him there, kept his spirit anchored in that beautiful moment where he could remember wanting to stay. Wanting to wake up.

After all that, and Connor still wanted to hold his hand while he slept. Greedy thing. Maneuvering his own hand out from underneath pillows and whatever part of Connor’s body that was pinning down his arm ( _feels like ribs?_ ), Hank opted to be greedy in his own way, too. He settled his arm on the other’s waist, fingers running along the small of Connor’s back. Feeling the way it dipped, the way it curved. Memorizing it. Focused on the body holding him there, letting the etch of the other’s body he traced help soothe him off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta Read by ColorfulQueer. Thank you again!!! ♡  
> My aesthetic is Connor does those snort-laughs. Because those are one of my favourite laughs. (All genuine laughs are amazing tbh)
> 
> So. That only took twenty-three chapters and literal days of my life. (Sorry this was late! I did not communicate with the beta.)
> 
> Onto Actual Important Notes: Spumoni is going through Stuff, and they work A LOT. These last several weeks I have had no time to write, and life has gotten Hella Stressful. If you need an idea, I burst into tears at a job I _love_ a few times this week. I'm too overwhelmed and stressed. So I'm dissolving the Every Thursday Update schedule I've been running. Updates will come when a chapter is finished, and the beta gives their seal of approval. It gives me one less thing to stress about, and allows my beta more freedom to take of themselves, too. I apologize about this, because it feels like I'm doing everyone that has been so supportive these last few months dirty. Thank you for always being so kind and patient.


	24. Primary Objective

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING:  
> Yes, finally, the chapter in which they have sex. A few important notes to be had - it was basically written while I was out of it on pain killers. The amazing BetaReader ColorfulQueer did a fantastic job and I'll be forever indebted to her for making this so much better.   
> Pain killers did not change the fact that the chapter's goal was to be as sweet and awkward as possible with it. So. Uh. You're welcome?

Sliding out of ‘sleep mode,’ Connor wasn’t sure what had caused him to open his eyes. Last night, once Hank had drifted off, the android reactivated his settings to monitor Hank, and he opted to let his systems begin the long process of configuring what was - and wasn’t - a malfunction. Constantly having to dismiss notifications about instabilities was distracting, and his memories required removal of those items. There was also the issue of Connor trying to configure his own protections against digital elements. Before, Amanda had sent him patches, had been his firewall. Amanda had been his protection in the world, guarding him against the viruses, malware, spyware, and everything else humans invented to try and obtain information or control of that which was digital.

And no matter how many emotions overwhelmed Connor at times, he was still an android. An android with no access to a cloud, no way to preserve his memories or experiences… much the same as a human, but humans didn’t walk around having to worry a wrong connection would cloud their vision with porn pop-ups and result in a permanent crash. 

Regardless, his nighttime updates and attempts at protection were finished and Connor could only smile when he woke up to Hank. The human was still asleep, the two were still holding hands, and even their legs had become tangled somewhere in the night. The man must have rolled over to face the android at some point, and while Hank’s chest was a nice pillow, Connor dared to not wake the other just to get back into their original position. Room service wouldn’t be there for another twenty minutes, and Hank deserved his rest. Yesterday had been hectic, too much information shoved into barely a day. 

The Lieutenant was not fragile, but Connor couldn’t stop the constant worries over the human’s emotional state. There was no predicting it, the experience a shaky ride as the two learned how to manage and work with it. Additionally, some humans reacted to excessive emotional strain by suppressing it all, and Hank had a tendency to do just that. What to do in the meantime, though? 

Furthermore, what had woken Connor? It almost felt like someone had attempted to reach out to him, but the origin was unfamiliar. The connection never fully established? Could it have been Amanda? When the Chloes disconnected, had… Amanda noticed? Was she aware now? Could that have been her reaching out to Connor, seeking his help in navigating the scary world of…

...of this?

A soft tremble shook Connor, as he ached at the idea of Amanda’s approval. Of Amanda thanking him, praising him. Of being deemed a success. How desperate he was for her approval, was this ache from a deep need or want? Humanity was so confusing, and the only safe thing was Hank, and Connor could not wake him. On the subject of Hank, it felt strange staying at his side for so long. Pleasant, wonderfully pleasant, and yet… almost taboo. The piece of him that still felt like a failure, that it would never be enough because he was a prototype released incomplete… did he deserve something so wonderful as Hank? Could he really help the human as much as he wanted to? _Needed_ to?

Connor would just slide out of bed, and greet room service when it arrived. That way, Hank would hopefully remain undisturbed. He would be able to sleep in. And Connor could sort through the thoughts and emotions swirling inside of him, without lying jittery next to the human. Running his processors to focus on what was least likely to disturb the human, the android selected the path with the lowest percentage. Trying to move away slowly was too risky, with rolling out the safest path. The first step was releasing Hank’s hand, no matter how badly Connor wanted to keep holding it. 

The thing about Connor’s processors was that they could only calculate based on what the android knew. This was the first time the two had slept side by side, and naturally everything there was to know… was not yet known. So when Connor attempted to roll away, a still very asleep Hank grabbed onto the android, pulling their bodies tightly together. This would have been fine, except it resulted in their legs tangling further, thighs pressing too close to sensitive regions. Unlike Connor, Hank did not have the option of just shutting off sexual stimulation. Cheeks dusting blue, Connor held as still as he could, trying very hard to not accidentally create friction against the sleeping man. 

That was Not Acceptable. And at this point, Connor would certainly need to wake Hank before he created an uncomfortable situation. He had looked at human romances. Checked up on what was culturally acceptable for romantic relationships, applied what seemed commonplace for individuals that acted as Hank did. The human seemed very determined to not take advantage of anyone, was dedicated to maintaining respect. Odds were, Hank would be the sort that wanted to get a feel for the relationship long-term. Wouldn’t jump right into the sexual aspect.

A grumbling sound left Hank, the human wrapping around Connor more tightly and the sensation of being surrounded, pressed into, had the android whining without meaning to. An influx of curiosities and wants and how overwhelming touch could be hit him, and the option to turn his sexual stimulation on popped up. To experience, on an entirely different level, the feel of Hank’s thigh between his legs. Shaking his head, counting to ten, the android refused, keeping those systems offline. Hank had told him to turn those off, and while that had been an order before all this, Connor clung onto any order during times of duress. Such as this one, with so much going through his thoughts. “Hank?” Connor whispered, resorting to using his strength to reach up, cup the human’s cheeks to gently shake the other. 

A grunt was the only response, but the human was still very much asleep. Of course. “Hank, please wake up.” Connor tried again, lightly tapping the side of the human’s face. How had he woken the other up so easily in the past? Right. He hadn’t cared if the other was woken rudely or gently. Since softly saying the other’s name wasn’t helping, the only solution was to - 

Connor’s thoughts paused as the human groaned, legs shifting and he could feel how Hank’s dick pressed into him, against him. 

“Lieutenant Anderson!” Connor sputtered, defaulting to that first night he saw Hank, smacking the other’s cheek with enough force that the other jumped awake. Their heads smashed together, the human’s loud gasp being the result of one of the very many things happening at the moment. “Oh! Are you all right? I think I hit you too hard! Hank? Hank?” Connor asked, immediately regretting his lapse in judgment, able to feel the human’s disbelieving eyes on him even in the dark.

“What the shit, Connor?” Hank asked, muddled mind trying to make sense of how they went from so nicely cuddling last night to him being slapped awake. Wasn’t that sort of thing behind them now? 

“I have made a series of poor calculations, and I am very sorry and I should very much like to make it up to you - and that is actually an awkward word choice now that I hear myself saying it, and it could be taken inappropriately, or maybe appropriately I am not confident about these situations, I just know I am very sorry-” Connor was rambling, the flurry of words only adding to Hank’s morning confusion. Connor tried to think, but this emotion called ‘panic’ wasn't helping. Was there a way to disable it? No? No, there was not. There needed to be, Connor decided. It was inhibiting progress. 

“Huh?” Hank cut into the other’s words. “Damnit, Con, what are you even… ah.” When he attempted to move, to detach himself from the android in order to sit up, that was when Hank felt it. The android’s leg, trapped in a vice grip from Hank’s own. He was waking up half-hard, with his own thigh pushing against Connor, able to feel the android’s still soft penis. 

A silence stretched between the two, Connor trying to figure out how to apologize without coming across as if he was propositioning Hank (while equally trying to decide if he wanted to - did he want to proposition Hank?) while Hank’s mind simply went numb. 

A knock at the door interrupted the two staring at each other. “I-I will get that. That door. The door. I will get the door.” Connor informed them both stiffly but remained in the human’s arms. He could have removed himself. He had the strength for it. But he wanted to stay there, to make sense of whatever was happening because no human media was helping him right then. 

Finally, Hank scooted off and away, so Connor could go. Hesitating, the android followed after, pressed a light kiss on the human’s nose, before he finally did get up. He walked over to the door, thanked the person who brought breakfast and clothes for them. Set the outfits on the table, and hesitantly walked to the bed with Hank’s food. Eggs, bacon, and biscuits. Nothing fancy, but certainly right up the human’s alley of unhealthy breakfast desires. “Do you… Want to eat? Right now?” Connor asked, the faint blue still there but he was trying to navigate this best he could. He had no idea if Hank would have preferred taking a shower first, to tend to the first signs of arousal in private. Or if the human could simply… Will it away, and eat just fine. Search results kept yielding porn suggestions, and somehow Connor doubted those would tell him anything other than… Something different. 

Hank merely sat on the bed, staring at the android, unable to shake the looming thought of, _fuck yes I want to eat_ , and attempting to ignore it. Fueling more fantasies that had no place there, only encouraging his dick to get harder. Connor in little more than an apron, with a tray of treats, asking if Hank wanted to eat. The android sprawled out on the bed, covered in sweet chocolates and creams and moaning as Hank licked every inch of him clean. 

“I, uh… You… That looks amazing - I mean, it smells great.” Hank said, mouth dry and trying to keep his focus on the plate and not the person holding it, because Connor bit his lower lip at how hard of a gaze the human drilled him with, and fuck if right then Hank could not handle that. The response was probably of discomfort. This was moving too much too fast, Connor wasn’t ready for this. The two just made sense of their attraction, and already the human found himself wanting to rush forward. 

Why couldn’t he just be a good guy? _Why am I so bad at being anything but shit_? Hank began a mantra, _I am NOT going to take advantage of Connor, I am NOT going to take advantage of Connor, I am NOT_ … Did he say he needed to take a shower? Very badly? Was that a thing Hank said yet? He couldn’t be sure, he was too busy trying to not moan at the visuals his dick was transmitting to his brain. Because that was how this worked. Exactly that way. Science needed to be in awe of how easily Hank understood all of this. 

“Hank, I am not sure how to ask this, without further complicating it.” Connor confessed, and it was then that the human realized no, he never said he was going to take a shower. He had apparently remained sitting on the bed, staring at the android with full-on bedroom eyes, as he completed the highest salute his lap could muster for anyone. “I apologize. Before, you asked me to keep my sex settings off-”

Technology was absolutely amazing. Connor was capable of gathering all the data and evidence in a crime scene to throw the guilty into jail. All within a single day. And he was just as capable at teasing Hank, standing, four feet away. With a plate of the human’s favourite foods, that he hadn’t tasted in weeks. A plate that Hank didn’t give two shits about, because he fell back into the most primal of human needs just because Connor said the word ‘sex.’ Truly. This was what made androids as remarkable as they were. 

“-But, that was due to a concern of strangers making inappropriate use of them. If they are off, I cannot reciprocate the enthusiasm?” Connor paused, looking up and curiously at Hank. As if the human was in the state of mind to correct him. “Or am I reading the Atmosphere incorrectly?”

The two stared at each other for a few seconds, seconds that felt punctuated too long due to the throbbing between Hank’s legs. 

“...Are you asking me if I… Want to have sex?” Hank finally snapped from his daze, long enough to try and attempt translating the other’s question.

“I am saying I am very willing if you are.” Connor clarified, his voice firm because in those brief minutes he concluded that yes, he very badly wanted to do something to make Hank feel good. To hear positive sounds leave the human’s mouth. To experience the way the man felt everywhere, to be able to explore and see parts of Hank that were always hidden by clothes. “If you are not comfortable, or this is too soon, I will leave them off. The settings.” 

“God, Con... “ Hank groaned, lifting a hand and running it through his hair. The fact that the android specified he was ‘very’ willing was what messed the human up the most. If all Connor had said was that he was consenting, that would have been enough for Hank to dismiss this entirely. That would have meant the android was doing it simply to please him, and the human was fervently against that. This was going to stay a Good Thing, he wasn’t going to let his fucked-up self ruin it just because he was horny. 

But no. Connor had to specify ‘very.’ To make it clear that, while the typical physical signs of arousal were not apparent, more subtle ones were there. The way the android looked at him, big brown eyes curious and needy. Lips parting just slightly, enough for a tongue to slip out just slightly or teeth to bite the flesh just barely. The fact that Connor tried to maintain his usual composure, with his back straight… But he kept shifting as if he was incapable of being comfortable. Thighs that would suddenly press against the other when he shifted. 

Twenty-five years ago, it would have been so easy for Hank to say, “Yes.” That was when he was most comfortable with his body, with his sexuality. Back when he was confident enough in everything he did. If the Hank of twenty-five years ago was in his place, he would have gotten up, grabbed Connor, and kissed and touched the android as much the other was comfortable with allowing. Picked the other up, gently placed him on the bed and try to make heads or tails of an android’s body, what it took for the two to feel good. Probably would have compared what made Connor moan to the claims of Star Trek fanfiction portrayals of Data. Maybe even be bold enough to boldly go where his horny nerdy heart had never gone before… Role-playing. 

Fuck he wanted _that_ now.

Instead, he was the Hank of today. Older, more exhausted, and lacking in the confidence department. Where Connor was inexperienced with these situations, Hank no longer felt comfortable in them. A lingering fear he would mess it up, or cum within seconds and just cry. That would have been humiliating. Just thinking of how humiliating it would be, he could feel the arousal diminishing. 

The plate got set on the nightstand, and Connor was sitting on the mattress with those worried browns of his again. A hand was placed on Hank’s shoulder, a thumb running along the fabric of the pajama top in soothing motions. “Hank, if I made you feel pressured, I… I can go change clothes and give you some privacy. Will that help?” The android wanted to help him so badly, the other’s constant need to please never leaving even in deviancy. Part of Hank wanted to use it as an excuse that the android wasn’t there yet, was still too vulnerable, still too easy to take advantage of. But another part, a growing part of him, knew he should ask first. To not assume. To not make decisions and come to conclusions for the other.

“Are you offering, because you think I want to, or because you want to?” Hank asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

“If I were to go by the regular prompts my systems are giving me in regards to turning those functions back online, then I would say, yes, I am offering because I want to. But if this is too fast, I will refrain from offering again for a few weeks.” Connor assured him, giving the best smile he could to the other. Hank gave an awkward smile back. 

“What if I disappoint you?” Hank asked, placing one of his own hands on top of Connor’s. Not even needing to look to know that the skin had dissipated again. The android tilted his head slightly, brows knitting as he tried to understand the question. “What if I can’t… Fuck, Con, it’s been years. I haven’t been workin’ on stamina, or… Fuck, anything really. I probably won’t last long and-! Listen, you deserve to feel _amazing_ because _you_ are amazin’.” 

“If it is with you, it will be amazing. Also, I do not know how much of those functions are complete. What if I cannot achieve orgasm at all? For the purpose of my having sex, that would not be deemed an important or necessary feature. I am not worried about how good _sex_ is. What matters to me, is that being with you feels _amazing_. Always. At all times.” Connor spoke so genuinely, so sweetly, it was all Hank could do to not physically melt. To know he wasn’t the only one uncertain of how well it would go, but there was still a desire to touch. 

“I am so fuckin’ ready to at least try, Con. You are so wonderful. Have I told you that lately?” Hank had asked the question but wasn’t interested in a verbal response. He moved his hand to wrap around the back of the android’s neck, pulling Connor in for a kiss. As Connor still attempted to answer with a muffled, ‘yes,’ Hank maneuvered the other to lie half on top of him. The android’s weight was a reassurance, and their soft kisses were reminiscent of last night. Pulling back slightly he muttered, “Please turn those functions on before this gets weird.” 

“Yes, of course.” Connor made another of those odd noises that were his attempts at a laugh, pressing his nose against Hank’s. Palms on the human’s chest, feeling the other’s heartbeat and how it hastened. The eagerness of Hank’s blood flow and how warm it made Connor feel knowing he could affect the other so positively. “There. Activated.” He announced and pressed a kiss to Hank’s lips. 

There were so many options and routes to go. So many places that Hank craved to touch, to explore. But this was Connor’s first experience. Going slow would be best. Clothes should stay, for the moment. He knew his own preferences, but not the android’s. Knew all the ways he wanted Connor, how badly he wanted to be pushing into the other, hearing the android say his name in breathless whispers punctuated by sharp gasps. That would probably be too fast. Frotting. Frotting would be safe enough. They could touch, work their way to being fully naked…

“Oh fuck, I haven’t even bought you dinner first…” Hank groaned, his mind not even registering that buying dinner for an android was not realistic. Connor made a soft snort-laugh, pausing in giving Hank’s mouth kisses in favor of pressing one to the human’s nose. 

“You have provided me adequate emotional sustenance.” Connor offered, giving another kiss. Such sweet displays of affection, so soft and chaste Hank felt hints of guilt he even wanted to escalate it. Even more guilt it was kind of turning him on, how gentle Connor was being. 

“Adequate? Do I need to give you more?” Hank inquired, teasing more at the word choice than the reality. Hoping to bring Connor to the point he was at, a spare hand grabbing one of the android’s legs and pulling the rest of his body on top of his own. When Connor’s crotch made contact with Hank’s, the android stilled, followed by his body shuddering slightly. And not in a sexy sort of way - in one that gave the human pause. “Con? Everythin’ okay?”

“Yes? Yes. I had not turned them all back online properly. Also, it’s almost past expiration date, and I now regret not maintaining better awareness of all of systems.” Connor updated him, letting out a soft sigh.

“Expiration date… For…”

“The lube. I would strongly recommend against ingestion.” Connor paused, eyes going wide while Hank raised an amused brow. “Not that I was assuming you would!” 

“If it’s not past expiration, then it’s fine. Lube isn’t the same as milk.” Hank chuckled, lifting his hand from the back of the android’s neck to run fingers through the other’s hair. Watching how quickly the simple action calmed the other down again. Assured that nothing was amiss, Hank took a breath. Tried to keep his thoughts calm. To not just cum in his pants, because these didn’t even belong to him. The hand that had pulled Connor fully onto him shakily hovered over the android’s lower back. Tried to gather the courage to touch the way he only had in dreams. “If you don’t like anythin’ I do, just tell me, understood?” Hank asked, and received a nod. More kisses littered his beard because Connor never seemed sated with how much he showered on the human. 

He could do this. He used to do this sort of thing all the time. It had simply been… years. A shaky, calloused hand settled on the android’s lower back. That was the easy part. The trickier part was… Hank pushed down, lifting his pelvis and letting his hard cock make contact with Connor’s softer one. “Oh…” The android stilled at the contact, pausing in those kisses. Hank waited, curious if that was a positive sound or negative - the overall tone was rather neutral. Then the kisses came back, these ones deeper, Connor’s legs opting that instead of falling into a tangle with Hank’s again would fucking spread. As if his default was to just wrap his legs around Hank’s waist, to begin slowly rocking in pace with Hank’s hand pressing their lower halves together. 

The movement was slow, Connor’s arousal playing catch-up with Hank’s. Eager and all-too-willing, the pajama pants quickly becoming too soft barriers between them. As if falling back into habit, Hank’s hand slid under the android’s top. Fingers running up his spine far as he could reach, before sliding back down - teasing to dip under the hemline of pants, but not yet daring. 

Connor whined. 

In his mind, this was going to be difficult. Connor would be unimpressed, would lose interest quickly. Instead, he was readily reacting. Eager for contact, eager to do exactly what he said: feel amazing together. Fuck, he wanted to make the other moan his name. Throwing caution to the wind, fingers dipped under the pajama pants, beneath the briefs. Clutching onto a handful of synthetic flesh, trying to push down and guide the android to grind against him. The fabric was stifling, and he wanted more. Pulling Connor’s hungry mouth off his own, Hank was able to use his hands to grab the android’s pants and pull down. “Yours-” Connor’s words were distressed, but he didn’t resist and instead kicked the garments off.

“Are next.” Hank agreed and found pale and freckled hands on his own assisting him in their removal. “Wait, hang on.” He paused, sitting up while Connor was awkwardly trying to get back into his lap. An action that would have been more welcome if it wasn’t for the fact he was struggling. Struggling with a need to see Connor in all his naked glory, a need to watch the expressions he made, against a fear that followed him. That if the android saw him naked, would be disgusted, repulsed.

He thought of last night, how greedy Connor was to see just a small part of Hank’s naked body. How little shame the android had in just touching him, feeling him. Wanting to explore him. If anyone else, Hank knew his fears might have been justified. Connor? Just fleeting nightmares that had no place. Lips parted to ask the android to turn the lights on, so he could see the other and be seen better than what the dim light provided by the sun’s rays attempting to peek through curtains. The request stayed on his tongue because no matter how badly he wanted to be there right then, that irrational fear lingered, clung tightly onto his throat and refused to let him speak. Sitting in front of him, with patience that never seemed to leave him, Connor tilted his head slightly and watched Hank. The android’s expression held worried lines along his forehead, the skin creasing from the unconscious act. 

The rush of becoming equally nude paused, and at length, Hank gave up trying to force himself to do something he wasn’t ready for. Reminded himself that Connor would understand, to trust that the android meant what he always said. A lightness flooded his chest, the anxiety that kept his speech wrapped in was melting away. Soaking in the relief, Hank quickly finished getting naked. He didn’t want to see his body, to see the rolls, the wrinkles, the stretch marks, the hairiness, the everything that society screamed at him through the entirety of his childhood were ‘gross.’ Soft hands cupped Hank’s face, Connor leaning in closely. 

“May I?” He asked, features softening of the concern but kept those brown eyes inquisitive. 

“Only if I may.” Hank tried to sound teasing, but there was a quavering to his voice. Trying to remember if his first time was this awkward, if this was normal because porn most certainly made sex seem so much hotter, so much more natural than this struggle of a mess Hank found himself in. Or if he was simply overthinking an otherwise normal situation. Connor pressed his lips to Hank’s, his hands eagerly exploring the human’s chest. Pads of fingers smoothing across chest hair, rolling over so fingernails combed through the curls in light, brushing motions. Pushing Hank to lie back down onto the bed, lean legs sliding across hips and stomach so Connor could straddle him, to move closer, to keep kissing and feeling the torso beneath him. 

With how quickly and readily Connor moved in, Hank took in a few seconds to recuperate. To fully process and register that the second permission and consent was granted, Connor was diving in as though he had been the one suppressing all these urges and needs for weeks instead of the human. Not that there was much time to marvel about it, because warm hands were touching him again, sending pleasant shivers through his body. Could feel that Connor was just as hard as he was as the android’s cock pressed into his belly, while his own would occasionally feel the brush of Connor’s backside as the two moved back into pressing against each other. A moan slipped from Hank’s mouth at the sensations, at the accidental teasing, and he felt Connor smile against his lips as the kiss carried. 

Relaxing his arms so they no longer supported him, accepting that Connor was going to continue straddling him, hunched over just so he could maintain locked lips with the human, Hank felt his body meld into the mattress. Left arm freed, he snaked it around the android’s back, letting his fingernails ghost a trail from Connor’s lower back until his index finger and thumb could slowly cup around the android’s neck. Pull Connor’s head closer, guide the other to tilt just enough so Hank could slip a tongue into the android’s mouth. 

Honestly, Hank wasn’t sure what he was expecting to taste but somehow it wasn’t Listerine. But that’s exactly what he was tasting. As if Connor had recently brushed and rinsed his teeth, and the human peeled back as he sputtered in surprise as the overpowering taste of mint or death that Listerine always left behind. “Fuck yer mouth rinse…”

“Is that the problem?” Connor asked, a snort of a laugh leaving him. The android pressing his nose against Hank’s jaw as the human turned away, following up the nudge with light kisses into the beard. “I thought you remembered I put bird feces in there.”

“ _Why_ would you remind me about that…” Hank was laughing nose scrunching because now his brain was desperately trying to figure out if the repulsive taste was, in fact, a direct result of bird shit from what? A month ago? It was undoubtedly long sanitized away until only the memory remained, but honest to the gods above Hank could swear he tasted the memory of the blue shit. Thirium-laced pidgeon shit.

There was a new drug name for the black market. Or maybe a really bad techno garageband.

“Because,” Connor started, a brief and pleased hum interrupting his words as he realized having his head rest on Hank’s, he could look down and see enough of the human’s chest to trace the lines of the tattoo with his fingers again. “I like everything about you, listening to you, hearing you… and I knew that would get you to say something.” The android ended triumphantly.

“Or you want to _stare_ at me instead of letting me kiss you.” Hank countered, playfully, taking hold of the android’s neck again to gently, guide the other to look him in the eyes. Connor merely smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling happily.

“I do like staring at you, too.” Connor admitted, no shame in his words. “I’m very happy I get to stare at other parts of you now.” He continued, the lightest blue on his cheeks to parallel the red blooming on Hank’s. 

“Took the words right out of my mouth.” Hank breathed, proud he was able to find that much to say given how flustered and aroused he was. And it was true, if he glanced down he could see those faint freckles on Connor’s shoulders. On the android’s cheeks, and because of how dim the lighting was Hank knew he needed to, at some point, put his eye level at the android’s waist to see if those freckles dotted across that backside. He already knew, just from the brief grazing he did a minute ago, there were other moles to be found on the android’s back. Ignoring the memory of the pigeons, of the Listerine flavour, Hank kissed Connor, deepening it and letting his tongue explore the other’s mouth. 

Left hand holding Connor’s head in place, Hank’s right hand placed itself onto the android’s back. Let his thumb run circles over the skin, trying to see if he could manage to reach down far enough to grab an ass cheek. Just one, he was not being greedy (yet). Since Connor was hunched on top of him and Hank’s arm was thankfully just long enough, he was able to grab the top half. The android’s hands paused, surprised by the squeeze, but the lull was brief and Connor was back to testing the waters of Hank’s pectorals. Investigating if the nubs that were perking up were sensitive, the soft grunts he got in response telling him the touches were pleasant but not particularly stimulating. 

“Hank,” Connor murmured, pulling back slightly from their kisses, “are you feeling good?” 

“Yer makin’ me feel fucking great,” Hank grunted, a moan leaving him because the head of his cock just barely kept pressing against the android. A constant tease and the human had to remind himself that he wanted to just try to keep this limited. To not go further, to not just flip the android onto his back and push into him, deeper and deeper into all Hank knew was the other’s insides and all Connor knew was how much Hank filled him. 

He was going to keep calm, but then Connor made a fantastically sweet sound, a moan followed by the android’s lips peppering his face with kisses again until teeth grazed along the shell of Hank’s ear. Connor rocking his arousal against the human’s stomach, moaning at the friction, at the feel of coarse hairs rubbing on the smooth artificial flesh. Fuck, if Hank didn’t want to just reach down, further, to push a finger into the other, make Connor beg to be fingered more, to be filled with _more_.

The sex was getting easier the less thinking happened.

“Hank, why couldn’t I touch you before?” Connor asked, voice breathless and Hank could get addicted to this, to listening to the way the android spoke in this state. 

“Consent issues.” Hank started to grunt out, but if he wanted to say more it was lost in a groan when the head of his cock was briefly, so deliciously wonderfully and briefly, slipped between the base of the android’s ass cheeks.

Absolutely, without a doubt, he would try to get Connor to the brink. Get the android there, and if it really was okay to do more than grinding… Then, then he would run the risk. 

“That is unfortunate… I am enjoying how you feel.” Connor informed him, pausing in talking and lightly nipping at Hank’s face to kiss him again. Always with those soft, chaste kisses that somehow just made Hank ache and yearn to do more, so much more. Always more, more, more. 

“You’re makin’ me jealous.” Hank groaned, shivering slightly as his body was groped by an android happily trying to find each area of his that was sensitive. Pleased sounds leaving Connor, finding just the right application of pressure to the human’s ribs eliciting moans instead of giggles. That running his fingers through the other’s chest hair, and just grazing Hank’s nipples got more response than mere grabbing or toying with - gentle affection a more erotic act than basic fondling. 

“You wish to touch yourself?” Connor asked, pulling back to look down at Hank with curious though barely focused browns. “Oh, I am too high, I apologize…” The android flustered, believing the lack of stimuli for Hank’s lower region to be the source of the problem.

“No, you get to be all hands,” Hank laughed, removing his hand from Connor’s neck to rest it on his mid back instead. “How about I get a turn?” He suggested, arms going back down to the mattress to start pushing himself up.

“But…” Connor _pouted_ at him. It was like being sucker-punched in the gut.

“Well shit Con, when you look at me like that…” Hank sighed, torn between giving into those hopeful brown eyes and his own wants. “How about we compromise: we switch positions for now, and afterward you can touch me as much as you want when we aren't in public.” He offered. 

“On one condition, I don't when you aren't in the mood,” Connor added.

“Well, yeah, obviously.” Hank agreed, grinning slightly as he was already in the process of pushing himself up. 

“The implied public indecency was obvious, too.” Connor pointed out, starting to slide off Hank to let the human move with more ease. Instead, Hank grabbed Connor, lifted him, before rolling over so the android was beneath him, splayed and watching Hank with wide, bewildered eyes. “Hank, your back-”

“Is fine, I just _really_ wanted to do that,” Hank assured him, using a soothing voice and trying to retain rationality because he had been absolutely right. Being able to lift Connor gave a nice boost to his ego, which sent waves of pleasure to his groin. It was one of those things he had originally seen in porn, and ever since knew it was one of those small kinks that just stayed with him. To be able to lift his partner. In the past it had been to actually hold them up, to rail them into a wall with their arms around his neck. 

Hank wasn't sure his old back could quite handle that anymore, but fuck if this wasn't a close second. 

The surprise was already gone, as Connor was kissing Hank again, and of course, the android moved faster. Allowing it for the time being, because it felt good and made Connor happy, Hank was finally able to put calloused hands onto smooth, freckled skin. Could feel the dips of false skin designed to replicate the appearance of muscle, the circular area that could pop open the slot that was Connor's interior. The human was very cautious to not activate that. Exposing someone's insides tended to dampen these sorts of moods.

As much as Hank wanted to pull away, to get in close and really inspect Connor, he didn't want to stop kissing the other. Additionally, if he tried to pull away, the android didn't stop him but he did whine. And somehow that was worse. It was a needy whine, and combined with those puppy-dog browns was impossible to deny. So Hank instead noted subtle bumps that were more moles on the android ( _lucky number seven so far_ ) and relished how moaned when he thumbed over a perked nipple.

“Kind of hot that's sensitive…” Hank murmured between kisses, between sliding his tongue into the android's mouth, guiding the other's into his own. 

“Is it? Would it be more ‘hot’ if I increased sensitivity?” Connor offered, perking up and pausing on the kisses to find out his answer. Inquiring eyes searching Hank, just as hungry for more intimacy as they were for kind words. Learning all the upgrades, eager to please and be pleased in return (because that would further please Hank, and of course it did feel good). 

“You can _do_ that? Wait, why am I even surprised… I'm not sure, but maybe we can explore that another time.” Hank suggested, his neck feeling hot because his mind instantly went to that being all it took. To have Connor cum, moaning Hank's name and the human not having to stress about being unable to last himself. Was that selfish? He was too horny to be sure, and simply opted to table it for later. 

“I don't compliment you much, do I?” Hank asked his own question, sobering as he realized the nicest thing he said to Connor was a remark about how ‘perfect’ he was. That hadn’t even been intended as a compliment back then. The purpose of saying it was to remind himself how pathetic Hank was compared to a machine. A machine that got so very excited about being called ‘cute’ by him that first time, a machine that seemed so damn happy a recipe it followed was well-received… a machine that until Connor deviated, only heard what he did wrong. That was then, and this was now. Hank promised to himself that Connor would only know compliments this morning forward. That Hank would do more than just make Connor feel great physically - to make him feel just as great mentally and emotionally. 

“You don't compliment yourself at all.” Connor countered with that gentle voice he used any and every time Hank gave any indication of berating himself. Taking the human's hand in the exposed one of his own, Connor pressed the back of Hank's hand to his cheek, then turned it so he could kiss the wrist. Feel the pulse, feel everything. “And I'm going to help you do that.”

“Yeah?” Hank asked, grinning slightly. “Well, I've never heard you compliment yourself either. So maybe that's a thing we can help each other with.” The comment got wide eyes from the android, who was likely trying to remember a time to prove Hank wrong. “I'm right. Wanna know how I know I'm right? Because I'm all you ever focus on. You want me to do the self-care thing, you're gonna learn it _with_ me.” He wanted it to sound teasing, playful. But it just came out as a promise, one that earned him a smile so warm it melted chocolate and his heart. 

“That sounds wonderful, Hank. Thank you.” To further express his consent to grow with Hank, to learn to be better with the other, Connor placed more kisses on the human's wrist. A simple act that shouldn't have given Hank cause for trembling slightly, shouldn't have sent shocks from the android's lips to his groin. Bending down, forehead on the mattress and his own mouth on Connor's shoulder, Hank looked like a man praying. With shaky breaths, he trailed kisses along Connor's shoulder, crossing along the clavicle and across the android's chest. 

Hearing those wonderful moans, he gave up on ever getting his arm back from Connor who rotated between nuzzling the palm with his nose or lightly nipping sensitive fingertips because Hank made such fantastic sounds when he did. Lacking a free hand to play with and needing one to keep himself steady with, Hank accepted pressing his mouth to one of the android's nubs, tongue rolling over it and thanking the name of whichever deity came to mind hearing Connor whimper.

Experiences with past lovers varied. Sex came easily and readily, either because he and his exes planned it or a bad porn succeeded in getting them horny. Quiet conversations were reserved for the afterglow, discussions about feelings either avoided or addressed with clothes on and guarded voices. As Connor whispered his name, engaged Hank in conversation, the awkwardness, the self-consciousness was melting away. It had to, otherwise, there was no way for Hank to respond, to be able to keep himself steady. There was no time to contemplate if this was simply the way Connor was, if this was how he believed sex to work, or if he recognized the human’s insecurity and was trying to distract. No time to keep fearing what he could and couldn’t do anymore, to care about his body because in that moment there was Connor to care for.

There had been attempts at hickies, attempts that faded as Hank realized that those wouldn’t show. The pale skin didn’t mark, because it wasn’t real and the synthetic flesh wasn’t designed to imitate a human’s that intimately. No one was supposed to see it except mechanics or CyberLife scientists. In flickers the white revealed itself, quickly shimmering away because Hank murmured against Connor’s stomach, “I love your freckles,” and who was the android to deny him seeing that which he loved?

Especially because his chest was filling with a warmth that was rising, expanding outwards. As if his thirium pump was a nebula, and the heat of Hank’s body against his, Hank’s words and reassurances and just Hank being Hank birthed a protostar that Connor could call a _heart_. His components were that of a machine, but Hank made him feel human and no matter how cheesy or cliche it was, calling a piece of himself a ‘heart’ carried with it a beauty and poetry fewer words offered. 

And Hank’s skin was wonderful. When Connor’s hands could explore, he felt so many wonderful things about the human. Scars from past altercations, promises of stories that Hank could tell him all about. Would Hank exaggerate for a more interesting narrative? Would they be short and to the point, the human avoiding topics that either made him uncomfortable or those he perceived to be made uncomfortable by the subject? Or perhaps he would try to tell the tales in a comical fashion, wielding dark humour to lighten otherwise uncomfortable topics? Places the skin sagged from time and stress, weighed down with gravity and experiences. Beautiful, wonderful human experiences that built Hank up just as much as they tried to tear him down. Despite it all, he remained and there was nothing Connor could be more grateful for. 

Hank was there, with him, touching him, talking to him, saying how he loved Connor’s freckles…

There was no way to determine if the exploding sensation inside of Connor’s chest was love, infatuation, or something unique to being an android learning to feel. There were so many things he adored about Hank, that he found himself softly sharing them because how could he pick one? Whispered how much he adored Hank’s calloused hands, because they showed how much the human did, and even then… these were hands that never forgot to be kind. How wonderful Hank’s body felt against his, tense with muscles beneath yet soft with the fatty tissue on top - two wonderful things blending to make such a marvelous human. 

That gave Hank pause, the man trying to decide if he wanted to laugh or cry at it. “Con, I thought we were learning to compliment ourselves?” He said, grinning and unable to focus on toying with the android’s nipples with his teeth. 

“You started it,” Connor replied in a breathy sigh, glancing at the human with a shy smile, a hint of pride flickering in those browns. 

“Oh? Did I?” Hank chuckled, pressing his forehead against Connor’s sternum. Felt Connor running his fingers through his hair, fingers massaging the scalp only to run through the strands, idly undoing tangles. _Fuck I’m attention-starved, he’s just playing with my hair and I feel like I’m gonna bust a damn nut_ , Hank thought, becoming increasingly uncomfortable by how much his cock ached. It had been too long with too much stimuli, but no real contact. 

“Hank? Are you alright?” Connor’s voice cut in.

“Y-yeah. Why?” 

“You’re growling,” Connor informed him, that voice of his helping Hank navigate through the muddled brain he was developing as he began to struggle with multitasking. “Is your body experiencing neglect?”

“Are you scanning me?” Hank grunted, letting his head fall to the side, in order to tilt it and look upwards at the android. 

“No, but we started our intimacy six minutes ago and in the beginning, you expressed concern about your endurance, and I worry you are… experiencing too much neglect and strain.” Connor could still so easily slide into those facts, but now there was genuine care in there. No hints of quiet mockery or disappointment. “Do you have a preference for stimulation?” 

_Fuckin’ yes, I do but saying it feels shady as fuck_ , Hank thought, taking in a shaky breath and trying to remember how to be rational. Both his brain and cock begged him to ask Connor if he could just fuck the android into the mattress, but would that be too much, too quickly? Would that be selfish? Did Connor require prep? Fuck he was all about watching Connor finger himself, begging Hank to help him. But that certainly didn’t fit in with the whole, ‘Connor is worried about me having blue balls,’ situation that was happening right then. 

Clearly, the best course of action was to ask the android if he got as far as having preferences in this state. If there were any preferences beyond Connor wanting to learn every piece of Hank’s body. _Later, I should show him some ankle and see if he gets as excited about it as those… those pricks from a time long gone, long, long fuck in Connor, oh Hell_ … there was no longer logical thinking. It was gone. 

“How… Do you want… T-to... _fuck_.” Hank groaned, going down, wanting to go down, down and deep into the other.

“Do you desire me to be honest?” Connor asked hesitantly. All Hank could manage was a moan and nod of his head, because all he heard was ‘desire’ and ‘me’ and ‘honest.’ The light blue on the android’s cheeks darkened, but he plunged ahead because it was what Hank wanted and it would hopefully help the human. Fingers pausing in Hank’s hair, holding the human’s other hand with his, Connor licked his lips. “I should like you to…” He could use the internet to find a more lewd wording, but Connor wasn’t sure he felt anything resembling comfort at attempting to ‘dirty talk.’ No, for now, he would stick to being straightforward. There was safety in that. “Penetrate me, so that I may carry a sample, from you, with me for as long as I can.” 

There was a pause in the air, Hank staring at Connor of whom sucked in his lips and watched the human with his best neutral yet somehow still nervous expression. 

“I… You… What?” Hank was trying to break down what he had been told. Were this five minutes ago, that would have been easy. But a certain level of base human horniness had taken residence in his thought processes since then, so there was some struggle. “Wait… You want me to… Cum inside you. So you can… Have it.” 

“Yes,” Connor confirmed slowly, uncertain of his word choice now based on the human’s difficulty.

“Right next to the bird shit?” Hank inquired, memories of last night flashing back.

“Absolutely not,” Connor stated flatly. Logically, the android knew that the sample bags kept any and all items secured, safe from cross-contamination. But with these new emotions, he also knew that the valued DNA of someone he cared deeply for deserved better than to be placed next to some stranger’s blood and pigeon excrement. Besides, a space for Hank was already made and it had some of the human’s saliva.

With some level of detachment, Connor recognized that this sort of hoarding of a significant other’s fluids would not be regarded as romantic by sane humans. Perhaps when they were not engaged in sex, he should ask Hank if this sort of action teetered too close into stalker category for the human’s comfort. If so, he would need to work on that part of his mind that thought it was okay. 

Was it still not okay if Hank didn’t mind?

“Hank, please. Please get inside me before I think too much.” Connor begged, the ethical questions swirling in his processes, threatening to take over the moment and bury him in all the complications that came with his actions, his inactions. 

“Think? Oh, no, Con, if you don’t-”

“I do, Hank, very much so, but I am _downloading_ philosophy on living.” Connor’s voice was rushed, but the confirmation this was still consensual was all Hank needed. Whoever Kant was, Connor didn’t seem pleased with them so it was Hank’s sworn duty, as the man that just wanted his android happy and safe, to protect him… By… Fucking him.

This morning had taken very many weird turns, but Hank was pretty sure nothing in his life would ever top, ‘The only way to protect Connor, is to fuck the existential crisis out of him.’ 

“If that’s what it’ll take… Okay.” Hank breathed out - long, heavy, and slow. Fears and anxieties lost to the swell of arousal that filled him, surrounded him. Much to the android’s dismay, Hank took his hand back, let calloused fingers trail down a body so different from his own. Skin that never lost its elasticity (because that wasn’t real, but Connor’s affection was), a body that was hairless almost everywhere that Hank was hairy ( _Must be nice to never need to shave_ )... But fuck if Connor didn’t seem to adore these differences between them. The way he marveled at the parts that Hank hated, Connor wanted to see, to touch. 

“Do you need…” Hank paused, fingers splayed across the android’s abdomen, the tips resting upon hip bones that seemed to beg him to grab and massage by simply being there. He licked his lips, able to pull blue eyes gazing with lust from Connor’s naked lower half to look into the android’s brown ones. A sense of deja vu hit him, the thought of how much he loved those browns, how weak he was for eyes that held depth to them, were dark and drinkable, only to light up into glowing bowls of honey when the sun hit them. 

There was no opportunity to wonder if Connor enjoyed his view as much as Hank did - the android was smiling and melting beneath him, just taking in the sight of his human naked and over him. 

“...Prep?” Hank’s words caught in his voice. It had been so damn long since anyone looked at him like this. Since anyone wanted him like this, this badly. 

“It is not necessary, but if you would be more…” Connor trailed, his eyes on Hank’s and it was perhaps the first time the android was so lost in something that he forgot what he was saying. 

“Oh… Uhm, we can prep if you would be more comfortable.” Connor finally answered, brown eyes fluttering now that he was no longer lost in Hank.

“Yeah?” A word came out of Hank’s mouth, and he was leaning forward and down, pressing his lips into Connor’s. A knee nudged between freckled thighs, parting them so his lower body could slip in-between. The hand freed from Connor’s earlier hold took its turn supporting Hank’s body, while the other snaked down, eager to do more than just feel along synthetic skin counting moles. Aching erections finally touched, hips rolling in waves that quickly synchronized. The contact wasn’t perfect, sloppy yet urgent, but each touch was electric and perfect and it made _sense_ right then to Connor why humans enjoyed the activity so much. Not just the physical pleasure that accompanied it, but the wonderful sounds his human was making then that he never made before. The gasps, grunts, and even a couple of snorts that Hank would stumble an apology out for. Apologies that were silly, because these were all sounds Connor was desperate to hear more of, so he would simply kiss Hank deeply, assure the human how wonderful this was. 

How wonderful he was and this moment was. 

Hank’s left finger slipped inside of Connor, the man tensing just briefly because he wasn’t sure _what_ to expect. Would Connor tense, or would this be treated as natural? Did the inside of the android’s ass feel as human as the rest of him did? The lubricant that Connor had and used - would that be leaking out of him and staining the mattress, or would it wait until something was inside of him? 

There was no tension from the android, but there was a long, growing in pitch whine that left Connor’s throat, subdued by lips that were closed. The ring of the android’s rear flexed around his finger, and _fuck_ if it wasn’t delightfully realistic as it clenched around him. The rubbing of their cocks felt amazing, but his mind was already fixating on the next step. Pressing the finger in more, reaching in deeper, the process was made easier by the coating of whatever lube CyberLife decided to use for their androids. Hopefully, one that was water-based.

The initial give was more than what he expected, and feeling equal parts emboldened and reassured Hank inserted a second digit. Spread the two digits inside of Connor the same way he encouraged the android to keep his legs spread, twisting his fingers as Connor’s legs were trying to twist around his waist. Pressing their pelvises together, cocks rubbing against stomachs and each other. While he fingered the android with a third finger, marveling in the sensation flowing over him and how easy this was, Connor was sharing quiet and comforting words. Fingers back to running through Hank’s hair, whispering how _wonderful_ he felt, and did Hank feel wonderful too? 

Hank wanted to find that sweet spot, to run the back of his nails along Connor’s prostate, only to remind himself as he blindly sought what didn’t seem to be there that Connor was an android. That there was perhaps a limit to their similarities. 

Connor had mentioned he had no idea if he could even achieve orgasm, that such a feature would be regarded as ‘unimportant’ in a prototype. The idea gave Hank the first real pause since they started, because it made him feel gross. To hit his climax, and have Connor only be able to end his arousal by shutting it off. The android could claim it didn’t bother him, but to Hank it seemed… Sad in a way. To have it in the back of Connor’s mind, that in every aspect of his design he was made to please but not to be pleased in return. Hank pulled Connor into another deep kiss, sliding his tongue into the android’s mouth, his fingers curling inside the other, the human trying to wrap around and surround the android as much as he could, to give Connor a sense of security and affection because right then Hank wasn’t sure if he could give the other more than that. 

Deciding to cease exploring for something akin to a prostate, because Hank had no idea how far or deep inside of Connor he could go before he accidentally started poking wires or something, he removed his fingers. Each digit had a slight glint in the low light, smelling vaguely of fucking cotton candy. When was the last time he even had cotton candy? The closest was probably the bottle of cotton candy vodka. When was the last time his mouth starting watering at the thought of eating ass because _android-fucking cotton candy_? Would Connor stop him from trying…? Probably. The android was amiable until it came to Hank’s safety. And apparently _cotton candy_ smelling lube _about_ to expire was too dangerous.

“Hank…” Connor said his name in that breathless whisper of his, and with a grunt Hank succeeded in not cumming right then, between hearing that and having his cock rocking so nicely against the android’s. “Please?” 

Always so damn polite and considerate and Hank couldn’t possibly refuse that request. Pushing himself up, gathering his bearings, Hank let out a shaky breath. Looped an arm around Connor’s right leg, choked on air as the android arched upwards at an angle to assist with the endeavor. Could see part of the android’s back and its curvature, the widened hole Hank had been working and the way it glistened, a droplet sliding out as if it knew blue eyes were boring into it. The way the ring of muscle tightened as the air hit it, only to relax as the android fought against what would normally be a natural response for a person but unnatural for him. Finally catching on that he was staring, mouth hanging open as he breathed until his tongue was dry, Hank shook his head. Brought himself back into the moment, and cautiously guided his reddened erection to Connor’s entrance. 

Shuddering as the head slipped inside, pausing while he tried to remember how breathing worked and to see if Connor was still doing all right. The whispered words had tapered off into a variety of noises, and Hank wanted to be certain those sounds were those of pleasure - not pain. The fingers in his hair tensed, the digits quickly relaxing and began to slowly drag nails across Hank’s scalp. As if reading the human’s mind the android finally spoke in a breathless whisper, “Still amazing.” 

“Y-yeah?” Hank responded with a stuttered groan, his body trembling slightly from the self-restraint it was taking to not just plunge further in, because he knew the second he did this would be over for him. Had sex always been this difficult? Or was it because this one was lined with so much sweetness? To expose so much vulnerability, and have it reciprocated as if second nature to Connor. The two moved very little, the seconds ticking by while Hank silently struggled as the android resumed sharing his musings quietly. Too low for anyone outside the bed to hear, all sweet somethings solely for Hank. 

Doing nothing was starting to _hurt_. There were so many actions that Connor could have taken to rush him. It would have been so easy, that it had to have taken more effort on the android’s part to not rush the man pushing into him at a snail’s pace. Finally, Hank caved in to immediate, carnal need. Connor gave no indication that he was in pain, his words lilting in bliss when Hank pushed in, pressing his cock inside the android’s ass as deep as he could. Hank’s mind was a whirlwind of two experiences colliding: experience telling him it wasn’t supposed to be this easy, going in balls deep right off the cuff was dangerous, something had to have torn this was _dangerous_. Alarm bells, because the past adventures with _humans_ told him this was wrong.

The immediate situation was a stark contract, because Connor gave long sighs, fingers tightening into Hank’s hair, creating tangles that would be no easy feat to undo. The curling of the android’s toes, his thighs flexing and tightening around Hank and indirectly resulting in muscles clenching around the human’s cock. Hank gasped, his chest cutting off air as white spots hit his eyes, the tissue around his erection almost massaging it, something teasing at its head, demanding him further, and further in. No words left his mouth, and all thoughts halted entirely because all Hank could comprehend was the waves of euphoria crashing over him, rocking him. He didn’t register the short, abrupt thrusts of his hips, his arousal desperate to adhere to the coaxing of Connor’s body. 

Lost in the snaps and collisions of their bodies, Hank didn’t resist when Connor released his hair so he could twist around. Didn’t fight the android about the adjusted position, could only watch entranced as Connor maneuvered so he was partially on his stomach, ass and backside glowing white in the darkness, dotted with moles and freckles. Basic assumptions tried to make sense of it, the educated guess being that Connor wanted to be more comfortable. Thought nothing of how the android kept his mouth closed, because at some point he shifted from kind words to delicious moans. And then Connor was keening, mouth falling open and fluids fell out and _fuck_ if it didn’t look like the android was so blissed out while he was drooling.

Just as he initially predicted and feared, but was too zoned out in pleasure, Hank’s orgasm was quick. The sensations and that final image became overwhelming. The breath he had held in came out in a loud, drawn-out moan. It didn’t matter if anyone outside of the hotel room heard him, all that mattered in that moment was the mingling of pain and the satisfying buzz of relief radiating outwards from his softening dick. Leg and arm muscles immediately began aching, and Hank recognized in a detached kind of way that he was collapsing on top of Connor, the android sinking back into the mattress beneath him. Simply remained spread like that, retaining Hank’s limp cock inside. Hank’s breathing was heavy, and it was hitting him how sweaty he was in comparison to how dry Connor was. 

“...Con… You ‘kay?” Hank asked, his eyelids getting heavy already and the stimulation around his cock transitioning from erotic to somewhat uncomfortable. “You… That wasn’t…” Logical thought was returning, and with that came the knowledge that whatever just happened with Connor’s mouth, it was not the android hitting climax. 

“Cleaning feature.” Connor gasped, blues coating his cheeks, and ears that the human could barely make out in the dim light. “I made… a slight miscalculation.” He admitted, somewhat sheepishly. There were settings he hadn’t thought to check on, too enthusiastic to engage with Hank sexually. He got swept away in sensations and excitement he wasn’t used to, and as a result Connor’s cleaning cycle remained activated during intercourse. The attempt to deactivate came too long, and his distraction made where the spill happened smell like toothpaste.

“Yeah? ...Yeah… Okay.... And you’re… Are you…?” Hank asked, hesitant because the android hadn’t answered his question.

“Oh. Yes, I am fine. Thank you, Hank. That was… wonderful.” Connor breathed, wondering how he was going to relax while his systems still hummed with a need. A desire that pulsed through his systems, begged to activate vibrations, to try and get Hank hard again because he wanted _more_. That wasn’t how male human genitals worked, and Connor tried to control that thrum in his systems saying more, more, _more_. The fact Hank was still inside him was not helping. “Do you require a nap?” The android offered instead, struggling for the first time to read through whatever he could of his internal manual. Every time he tried to shut down the erotic options, his own neediness stopped the attempts. Even so, he refused to prioritize himself over Hank.

_**PRIMARY OBJECTIVE** : LIEUTENANT HANK ANDERSON_  


If Hank knew about that, he probably would have been upset. A conundrum - an overwhelming desire to tend to Hank, but an understanding that wasn’t what the human wanted. 

“You haven’t… We’re gonna try, Connor.” Hank said instead, grunting as he pushed himself up so he could pull out of the android. He ignored the android’s whine, ignored the burning of his muscles and heaviness of his eyes. Pressed his lips against the back of Connor’s neck, pausing when his tongue hit a dip. Reminded himself that there would be odd differences like that, because this was an android, he hadn’t forgotten that, right? 

“Hank?” Connor asked, uncertain yet eager. Sounds emanating from his audio unprompted, because calloused fingers were rolling a nipple while Hank trailed kisses and ghostly bites along the android’s shoulder. 

“This is a…” Hank paused in his answer to press more love bites to the android’s skin, “...We’re partners, right?” The human was at a loss of what exactly this was, but ‘partners’ was the best his sex-addled mind could settle on. Coordination was tricky, but he managed to snake a hand around, grabbing the android’s hard-on. He slid fingers down the shaft, feeling the wires that mimicked veins beneath the skin. The body beneath him jerked, whimpered from the sudden touching. 

“Y-yes.” Connor replied, voice shaking as his body rocked into and against every part of Hank it could make contact with. “Yes… Please…” Context said he was begging for more, turning easily and readily because he was designed to. But ‘partners’ was rolling around in Connor’s mind, and it was all he could think of, could focus on. Partners entailed so much, and it was Hank that asked. So naturally, so easily, because that was what this was. A partnership built of carefully created trust, and Connor had never wanted something so much until he had this in his grasp. 

“Okay… Right…” Hank was exhausted, but a grin was on his lips and all he could manage was trying to keep the kisses coming, to try and find as many sensitive spots as he could. “Then no naps… No nothin' until _you_ cum, too…” 

“Hank, I don’t know if I can-”

“Guess we’ll,” Hank kissed between shoulder blades, “be here awhile.” His reasoning out, all Connor could do was laugh between moans. “I got you, I promise.” Hank’s tone was assuring and warm. That need to always tend to the human continued to lurk, despite an awareness that Hank genuinely seemed to want to do this. Somewhere inside Connor still felt repulsed by his readiness, at how willing he was to relax and melt into Hank’s touches when that wasn’t the human’s job. The android tried to ignore it, tried to come to peace with the knowledge that Hank wanted to help. Stress was starting to build, because while it felt good, what if nothing happened? A self-created pressure to do what Hank was trying to help him achieve, slight panic rising. Connor needed to do something. What if he managed to deactivate those functions? Hank might get upset with him, but maybe he would understand? 

“Hank, I don’t… I’m not sure…” Connor stumbled in his words, chest tightening and he was trying to not let the fear control him. But emotions weren’t so easily quelled. Telling them ‘stop that’ accomplished nothing, a reality Connor should have known from his experiences with Hank. 

“Hey, it’s okay, you’re okay.” Hank soothed, pressing his forehead just beneath the android’s neck. Tried to not let this affect his ego, to remind himself this wasn’t a reflection of his abilities but of CyberLife’s selfish motto of ‘androids only serve.’ “You’re good, try to relax. Can you relax for me?” He coaxed, attempting to resume conversation since Connor had proven to be a chatty sex partner. _Partner_. Much nicer sounding than boyfriend.

At the request, the tension rising in Connor’s shoulders eased. Perhaps the android was returning to his default, taking orders because there was safety to be found in it when he became rattled. 

“I’m good.” Connor repeated, taking the security and reassurance that came with it. 

“Yeah.” Hank agreed, running the tip of his nose against the android’s left shoulder. Mulled over the reaction he was getting. Without a raging boner acting to distract him, instead a cooling settling over his once heated body helping keep him awake it was easier to think. The android had several sensitive areas, and he was responding to them - but nothing more. Under him was a soft body willing to serve, that didn’t seem entirely comfortable with being served. Perhaps if he helped Connor take his mind off of whatever hang-up that followed him even in these intimate moments. _C’mon, Hank. You’re a lieutenant detective. What distracts Connor? ...Aside from me?_ He mused, pressing kisses along the android’s hairline, trying to not be amused by the brushing sound of his coarse facial hairs sliding across the finger strands of the android’s hair. 

_Oh_ … Realization came to Hank when his teeth were sliding over the shell of Connor’s ear, as the android was asking him in quiet whispers if they could still dance, because even if they didn’t have the record player that was an option, right…? “Yeah, of course.” Hank assured Connor, pulling back slightly and he could hear Connor sighing as beard slid across a temple. “I enjoy dancin’ with you. Remember when we slid into the _Cha Cha Slide_? I think that was the first time I had fun with you, just being with you… the first time I saw _you_.”

“Hank…?” Connor murmured, shifting beneath the human, curiosity in his voice and just as Hank guessed, there was even some hope. 

“You’re so damn amazin’, Con.” Hank urged a groan through his voice, even though he was still too soft and he probably wasn’t getting it up a second time. Experience with touching himself was being applied to the android, although Hank handled Connor’s erection more gently than he ever did his own. A thumb rolled over the head, fingers caressing the shaft in loving pumps. “Fuck, even now you could download entire _libraries_ on sex, and here you are, learnin’ with me instead because you’ve become so _genuine_.” It was a bit embarrassing, saying all the thoughts that flitted through his head about Connor. Gushing about someone to them tended to make people uncomfortable from a society that discouraged pride, because a proud person didn’t spend money the way someone desperate for acceptance did… 

...But Hank didn’t want Connor to be ashamed of any of the things that made him so wonderful and important to the man. Didn’t want Connor to continue living ignorant of what made him good, because all he used to hear was what made him ‘wrong.’ Not to mention the way Connor squirmed against him, breaths coming in sharper while the android began to lose some of his usual eloquence in speech as he tried to return kind words. 

How foreign must it have felt to Connor in that moment? His first experience having someone fawn over him, letting him relax and enjoy himself for a change instead of constantly fretting about Hank, tending to Hank. And it felt good to Hank, to know he was the reason. He was the source of Connor starting to relax, to give in and accept that he could be human and be selfish. 

“I’m so happy you’ve become who you are.” Hank murmured against freckled skin, grateful that this would become his normal. That he had access to kiss these shoulders his chin was sliding across, that Connor had gotten to know him so well there were faint hints of blues in the shape of where the human had nipped and sucked on the skin - echoes of hickies, because even if they were merely designs created by code, it was an aesthetic Hank could appreciate. Now knew these were marks he could decorate the other with, that could just as easily be removed if needed. 

“Happy… Happy you’re you… And I’m me?” Connor slurred, a strange sound in of itself, but still wonderful. 

“Hell. Fuckin’. Yes.” Hank laughed, turning his head to press a kiss to Connor’s lips, the android’s head turned slightly to greet him with warm browns and a smile. The affection didn’t deepen, but it didn’t need to for Connor to moan against him, for the android to shiver and whimper and _writhe_. 

Fuck Hank wished he still had enough in him to get it up a second time, for the way Connor rubbed his ass against Hank’s limp cock to do something more than send over sensitive shocks. A wetness spilled into the human’s hands, the liquid slick. Hank had a sneaking suspicion if he brought it to his nose to smell, probably a cotton candy scent. 

They needed to go to a sex store and get that refilled. It was a necessity. 

“See…” Hank breathed, pulling back some while Connor blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of why he was struggling to focus his eyes after his orgasm. Attempting to calibrate, to make sense of if that was intended to be normal for his model or not. “You can do anything you put your mind to.” He laughed softly, pressing his forehead to the other’s. Tilting his head so their noses could bump in a rabbit’s kiss, Connor smiled widely, causing his eyes to turn into stunning slits of dark chocolate browns.

“So can you.” Connor replied, chest warm and full and all those anxieties assuaged for the moment. 

“Yeah… We both can.” Hank agreed, finding a part of him was finally starting to believe it. Hesitantly. Still afraid to dedicate much hope on it… But it was growing the more he stared into eyes unafraid to have faith in Hank.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are still reading this, thank you so much for all of your fantastic patience. <3 You have been completely phenomenal, and no one could ask for more wonderful readers. All of you and ColorfulQueer are the real MVPs. <3 I hope everyone is doing well.
> 
> Friendly reminder to take your meds if you have any, drink some water, and relax. Let out the breath you're been holding, relax those shoulders and knees, and unclench your jaws. You're all wonderful and valid - thank you so much for being you!!


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